Welcome to the New World
by binawitch01
Summary: Cristina Waters, best friend of Alycia Clarke, is stuck with the Clarke family in the whirlwind that is the undead apocalypse. Her life and relationships are put to the test throughout the destruction of the old world, where she's forced to do the unimaginable to survive. Jesus, all she wanted to do was graduate and maybe screw a guy. Nick Clarke/OC. (With a heavy dash of smut.)
1. Chapter 1: Life in LA

_A/N: Hello again everyone! It's been a LONG TIME since I've written anything for this story and my Walking Dead one. Sorry, a gal's been busy. But, as you can see, this is a tad bit different. I've been looking at it in a new lens since it's been published, and while it's GOOD, it could be **better** in some areas. I'm not deleting anything! Just editing the language a bit and adding a couple small scenes here and there. It flows better with the additions, trust me. Tina's sassier now, which is what I want her to be._

 _If you've read Welcome to the New World before, I'd suggest reading it again. Just to catch up on the new pieces. If this is your first time reading it, welcome! I hope you enjoy it. (And yes, this is a rated M story for a reason. There IS smut. Ya nasties :P)_

 _And, of course, a disclaimer: I do not own Fear the Walking Dead or any of its storylines. If I did, it'd be a LOT different. I just own my OC, Cristina Waters and her storylines._

* * *

" _Where are you?"  
_

 _"Just got through the entrance. You?"  
_

 _"Bloody hell, I'm in East wing already. Meet up at the front?"  
_

 _"Nah, I'm heading to class. Meet up there?"  
_

 _"Okay. See you."_

I click, " _End Call_ ," on my phone, shoving it in my pocket quickly. Sure, we're allowed phones before class, but Mr. Bruno is a hard ass about them. I don't want it confiscated before the first bell.

The other teens in the dull classroom chat away, not that there are many. The normally bursting room of testosterone and estrogen is more hushed than normal. There are rumors from teachers and other students that the few dozen absences are from the new flu. It's unsettling.

I stand outside the door, patiently waiting for Alycia to catch up. I almost thought she wouldn't make it. _I wonder what happened_. Not that I'm surprised. Alycia likes to sleep in, or take her time eating breakfast. She is _not_ a punctual being like me. I rise with the sun; she rises whenever the hell she wants to.

That's the funny thing about Alycia and I; we're polar opposites. She's tall, I'm short. She has long brown hair, I cut mine a tad and dyed it a deep red a few months ago. Not like a fire truck red, more of a bright auburn. It's one of my favorite colors. Her eyes are light brown, and mine green. The one thing that we have in common is our brains. We both take the same honors and AP classes with high GPAs. It's how we met back in freshman year. Three years later, we're basically conjoined at the hip.

Not that our parents mind. Her mom and step-dad(ish,) enjoy when I visit, and my parents love when she stays over. They're glad I have a close friend. They knew how difficult it would be for me to make some after our huge move a few years back.

I see Alycia taking her time in the hall, tapping away at her phone with earbuds in. She looks up from the screen and gives me a forced smile.

The real one I have drops, turning into a frown. "What happened?"

Alycia sighs as she stuffs her phone in her pocket. "It's Nick. He's in the hospital. Again."

"Oh." We walk into class as my heart drops. I know she loves her brother, but he can be a pain. Especially when he gets himself into trouble. "What is it this time?"

"Probably heroin again." She informs as we flop in our seats. " _And_ he got hit by a car. Minor scrapes and bruises, but still."

"Damn, I'm sorry, love. That's awful." I say, my thick British accent mulling through the words. She tosses her homework for English on her desk, and I focus on her growing frown.

"Yeah, it is. But he's done it for years. I'm used to it by now." I notice Alycia's hand clenching around the small pink eraser for class, her knuckles turning white. _He's the_ _ **one**_ _person that could do this to her. And still, he repeats this vicious cycle._ Half of me wants to punch him. The other half wants me to beg him to stop.

"I know, love. It sucks."

She just hums in response.

"Before I forget, Matt was looking for you." I say, and the bell rings.

"I'll see him during Spanish. Thanks for the message." She says, and Mr. Bruno enters the room with a large stack of papers in hand. _Pop quiz. Fuck._

"No problem."

* * *

The last bell rings loud, and to me it sounds like angels singing. I meet up with Alycia by the door, who indeed left me in Spanish to hang out with her boyfriend, Matt.

As she yanks out her phone from her pocket, she asks, "What'd I miss in Spanish?"

"The start of a long and dreadful project. Congrats, you picked the best day to skip class." I playfully say. I give her the list of objectives for the five-page project.

"Shit."

"Yup. I can help you out a bit, if you want. We can hang out tonight and I'll show you the ropes?"

"I'll ask my mom." She replies, which roughly translates to, " _Yes, come over_."

"Cool. My mum's still out of town, but I'll send my dad a text."

We walk together down the campus stairs and to her mom's car, where Madison already sits. _Perks of being a faculty member here._

Alycia knocks on the glass with a knuckle and Madison rolls down the window halfway for us.

"Hey, Tina!" Madison greets with an easy smile.

I give a wave. "Afternoon, Madison."

I adore her. She's extremely nice, and genuinely wants to help the kids she counsels. There isn't a lot of that, especially in Los Angeles, but she holds true to kindness. Plus, she's really cool, and a great mother to her kids. _If they let her be_.

"Do you mind if Tina stays the night?" Alycia asks as she hops into the passenger seat.

"It's a school night." Madison points out.

"We know." I say, putting on my best smile. She's easy to wear down, especially since I help around the house if needed. "We just have a major Spanish project that we want to start together."

"Even then, I'm gonna go check up on Nick tonight." Madison says. "Travis is gonna stay home."

"Oh, you know I like Travis."

Madison thinks a moment before sighing in playful defeat. _Bam!_ "Fine. Hop in the back."

"Thank you." I grin and hop into the backseat.

The rest of the night goes by quickly. We get to the Clarke household and Alycia and I finish our homework at the kitchen table. Madison makes a quick meal of chicken, pasta, and broccoli for dinner, and she and Travis switch shifts for watching Nick. Travis and I make small talk as Alycia pointedly ignores him and scrolls on her phone. I feel for him and his awkward predicament. He's a good man, but he gets a lot of shit thrown at him.

The next morning Alycia and I race to the bathroom, which I win by a longshot. Alycia running before coffee is an absolute nightmare to see, and she's even worse in hand-eye coordination.

The morning goes by like a ritual; I shower, then Alycia, and Travis makes up a hot breakfast of eggs and bacon with English muffins. There's coffee resting in a pot on the stove, and he even makes me some green tea. He knows I'm not a coffee person from the numerous times I've slept over. _Jesus, I should get my own spot at the table. I'm here way too often._

As Alycia takes her shower, I walk into the kitchen. The smells assault my nose, and I breathe in the amazing scent.

Travis is just finishing up on the eggs when he greets me. "Mornin', Cristina."

"Good morning, Travis. Just Tina's fine, y'know." I say, like always. Not that Tina ever sticks with him. He grabs a mug, already with warm tea, and hands it over. I graciously thank him.

"We're gonna check up on Nick before dropping you two at school. That alright?" He asks. He holds a plate out to me, filled with delicious, warm food.

"Of course. You know I don't mind Nick." I say, setting the plate down and taking a quick sip of tea. I hope he mistakes the rising blush as warmth from the drink.

"Okay, good. He's been a little out of it. Says he's seeing things."

"What kind of things?"

"Just some bad hallucinations. I'm sure he's fine." I nod at the statement. "Once breakfast is done we'll head by the hospital."

"Cool."

I may or may not have had a crush on the older Clarke my first year in LA. The constant teasing from Alycia was _hell_. While he _was_ her brother, she thought it'd be cute and tried to be a shitty definition of a wingman. I was too nervous to say anything, though. _Ah, constant anxiety._ That was around the time he started using, and their father passed away, so it's not like it would have worked out. He's dated around, as have I. It helps that, a few months ago, Alycia told me he and Gloria—another druggie he hung out with—started dating. So, thus my crush diminishes. I've gotten over it throughout the years. As quick as it happened, it was gone.

Alycia walks in the kitchen, her hair damp from the shower. Travis hands her a plate and tells her to eat quickly so we can grab Maddy from the hospital. She, begrudgingly, does so. _Don't seem_ _ **too**_ _excited about it, love._

* * *

Madison is fast asleep in the hospital bed, clutching to Nick like a bloody teddybear in her sleep. _How sweet_. The three of us walk in a line into the room, with Travis as the first to enter. He has a steaming cup of coffee for her, otherwise known as, "life juice," to the Clarkes and the Manawa.

He bends over and gives her a kiss on the cheek, whispering, "You have an hour before the first bell."

Madison grumbles unintelligibly as her eyes open. The shift in the bed makes Nick mumble, though he's much less keen to open his eyes.

Madison stands up shakily, eyes still half-lidded and shifting away from the light. I note that her back will be killing, given the position she was sleeping in. "Okay. I need coffee before anything."

I hope into a plastic seat next to Alycia, who's tapping away at her phone, probably texting Matt. I shimmy my back into the chair, trying to get comfortable while I wait.

Travis hands Madison a plastic bag. "Here, a change of clothes."

She thanks him softly and leaves the room, heading to a bathroom to change.

Travis looks to Nick in the bed, and says, "I'll be right back." He speeds out of the room, trailing after Madison. The action leaves us three teens alone.  
I yank out my phone and begin typing in it, the silence in the air awkward. _Fruit Ninja solves this problem. Fruit Ninja solves all problems. Slice, slice._

Alycia, for once, sets her phone down and talks to Nick. "That was nice, you and the step."

"Not our step." Nick says, his voice a mixture of a deep grumble and grogginess.

Alycia strolls to the bed, saying, "Mom likes him. But, yeah, he's a disappointment."

"You two ought to be nice to Travis. He's sweet." I defend. They both look to me with boredom in their eyes. "He's trying his best."

"Yeah, well, maybe he shouldn't." Alycia says.

 _Barbarians_.

I set my eyes back on my phone, listening to Alycia flop on the bed beside her brother. She pulls the bedside table over to her, uncaps the breakfast plate, and pushes the button on the bed that makes Nicks head bend up. I hear his little chuckle at his sister.

"I know what you think." He says to her.

She grabs the orange jell-o cup and a spoon as she says, "What's that?"

"I know."

"What." She pulls the lid off. "Do I, think?" The tone in their voices are playful, something I don't see often in the Clarke children. I smile to my phone at the antics.

"You're perfect and I'm not?" Nick says it like a question, but it's meant to be a statement. She scoops a little of the orange onto a black plastic spoon and holds it to his mouth. He takes the bite gingerly.

He continues. "You got into Berkley, I got expelled from Citrus Community. I'm here, you're there."

She feeds him another bite. "I don't compare myself."

"You can't _not_."

She scoops up another. "I don't compare myself with crazy."

He seems genuinely hurt at the comment. "I'm not crazy."

"Well, you repeat the same behavior and expect different results. That's Miriam Webster-crazy."

 _Well, she's not wrong._

"Hey, Tina." Nick calls. I look up from my phone to him. "Could you grab me more jell-o? It's the one good thing they have for food around here."

I cock my head at the question. "And where would I get one? It's not like they have extras hanging around."

He gives a smirk at the question. "No, but other patients don't eat them. Just grab one from a dirty food cart."

"You're asking me to steal?" _Oh, how_ _ **vile.**_

"Sure." He shrugs his shoulders in response. "If that's how you wanna see it. It'll just get thrown out anyway. That a yes or a no?"

It's my turn to shrug my shoulders, then I stand and give him a cocky smirk. The thought gives me a little thrill. I mean, stealing _is_ bad, but it's not _that_ bad. He's right, it'll just get thrown out anyway. _What's the harm?_

I leave the room and walk down the narrow hall, easily finding a cart being pushed around by a nurse. She darts in and out of rooms, collecting trays with glassy eyes, like she's on auto-pilot. My eyes search through the dirty uncovered trays, spotting a green jell-o. I pull my phone out and pretend to play with it, fingers fake-typing smoothly over the surface. As soon as the nurse enters 204, I shove my phone in my pocket and sneak by, yanking out the green dessert. My hand presses the cup against my side, out of sight. Smiling to myself, I begin walking back to the room, hips sashaying with the movement.

Green jell-o held up proudly, I announce, "One extra dessert for Nick Clarke."

"My hero." He says, smiling goofily.

"You've made me a hard-core thief, now, so I expect to be paid for my troubles." I raise an eyebrow teasingly as Alycia grabs the cup from my hands. With a large flourish, I plop down onto a plastic chair, like a queen descending on her throne.

"Will a dollar suffice?"

I scoff. "That's worth at least a dollar fifty. Don't be cheap, mister."

"Fine. Put it on my tab."

I stick my tongue out at him in response, holding back a laugh.

These little conversations, the playful air in the room, even the joking, brings comfort. A small thought of, " _Maybe he'll change this time around_." But then again, I haven't talked to him that much; certainly never after a break like this. Our conversations are quick when I'm at the Clarke house. Passing by him in a hallway, knocking on his door to tell him dinner's ready. I can't even remember the last time I talked to him. Must've been a year, if I think hard on the timeline of Alycia complaining about his usage. I haven't had a _good_ discussion with him since maybe freshman year. I don't know what he's like nowadays. Not really.

"Hey." Alycia pulls me out of my thoughts. "Mom just texted. We're leaving for school."

"Okay." I say, standing up from my seat. "You first."

She grabs the door and pulls through quickly. I almost follow suit, my hand on the doorknob, but Nicks voice rings in my ears. "Wait, Tina."

I look back to him. "Yes?"

He motions for me to move closer, and after a moment's thought I drop the door. The gentle sound of it shutting rings in the silence as I stroll to his bedside, eyebrow raised.

"Do you…" He takes a breath before asking. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

I look down, away from his eyes. _Do I?_ I'm not sure.

"I think that these things you're seeing, you think they're true." I choose my words carefully. "Whether or not they're real doesn't matter. _You_ think they're real. Doesn't mean you're crazy."

He releases a sigh, though I'm not sure if it's from anger or relief. I try to remain neutral in his situation. It's not like he _wanted_ to see whatever it is he's freaking out about. It's just a side effect from the heroin.

"Thank you."

"No problem." I say, and give him a gentle smile. "Though I'm surprised you asked _me_. Wouldn't talking to your mom or the step-douche be better?"

I get a chuckle out of, "step-douche," and though I don't like talking about Travis negatively, it's worth it to see Nick calm down a tad.

"Remember…" Nick starts, his eyes staring not _at_ me, but _through_ me. "Remember the time, after my dad died, and everyone found out I was using? All I heard were begs to stop and get help. _All_ the time. From mom, from 'Lycia. And you?"

I smile nostalgically. "I punched you. And called you an idiot."

 _ **That**_ _was probably the last actual conversation I had with him_.

"Exactly. You were real with me. Figured if you didn't coddle me then, you weren't about to start now."

I straighten my back a bit, looking down to him. "Well, consider me flattered. Glad to be of service."

And—because I'm a terribly nosey busy-body, I ask, "Has Gloria come by to see you?"

"No." He frowns. "I don't think she's gonna." Nick's eyes immediately shift from mine to the floor. His hands, restrained to the bed, tighten to fists and shake by his side. I can't tell if it's from anger or fear.

I raise an eyebrow and softly pry. "Why not? Did you two have a fight or something?"

Then he looks up to me, eyes wide and terrified. He just says, "Something."

I press my lips into a tight line. "Sorry to hear that."

"… Me too."

A shrill _Bing!_ from my phone makes me jump in place. I yank it out of my pocket and read a message from Alycia. _Where are you? We're leaving, remember?_

"Gotta go. It's your sister." I say, writing a quick _On my way!_ to her.

Nick nods. "Okay. And Tina? Thank you."

I give a small shake my head. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

I leave the room again, giving a small smile to the ground. _Jesus, I'm hopeless_. Still, it was good to talk to him, even if for a little bit. I miss our chats; I miss having actual conversations.

Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I jog out the doors and find Alycia and her parents waiting for me at the car.

"Sorry!" I apologize. We hop into the car, almost synchronized in the movement. Travis decides to stay behind with Nick. Guess he still needs a babysitter.

The day goes by normal. Classes, lunch, phone call to mum outside. Classes again, take the bus home (Alycia went to hang out with Matt after school. I jokingly told her to bring a condom. She told me she has a whole pack. I was slightly mortified.)

Awaiting in my humble apartment of two rooms and one and a half baths is my father. Mum left Sunday for a business trip in England for the week, doing a presentation at a _huge_ medical conference. She works in oncology and, if memory serves right, was studying the effects of a new drug. Dad works as an implementation's manager at a bank. His hours are much more stable than hers, something I'm very fond of. _And he isn't called halfway around the bloody earth to present new findings every few years.  
_

"Dad!" I run over and throw my arms around him in a big hug. He's at the stove, making some chicken that smells divine.

He responds with a kiss on my cheek. "Hey there, Smurfette. How was school?"

His accent is much stronger than mine. It's not surprising, considering he's lived in Suffolk his whole life. Originally from Framlingham, Suffolk, my family moved here, to Los Angeles, California at the start of my freshman year.

I smile at the childhood nickname. "School was good. Got a shitton of homework though."

"As always." He nods. He knows the regular workload. He sees me do it almost every night. "How were the Clarkes?"

That's a whole other story. "Eh, Nick is being Nick. They're all a bit stressed."

Dad gives a gentle nod. "Is he better or worse?"

"Worse." I say. As I open my backpack and set my homework on the table, he rests his hands at the edge and gives me a teasing grin.

"What?" I ask, an eyebrow raised.

His eyes twinkle behind his thick glasses as he tells me, "You remember John, that new coworker I talked about last week?"

"… Yeah? And?"

"Well, I found out he has a daughter."

I roll my eyes playfully. "You say that like you won the lottery."

"She's 17. And siiiingle!"

"And she's gay? Bi? Into girls in some way, shape, or form?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "You can find that out for yourself."

As he heads back to the stove I say, "You can't try to set me up with someone when you don't even know what team they play on!"

"That's your problem!" Dad laughs. "Besides, it's not like I can ask him. I leave tonight."

I dramatically drop my head onto my Physics book. "Oh, that's tonight?"

He nods his head and spins some noodles around in a pot. "Yeah, I take flight tonight and by morning I'll be annoying your mother again."

"Oh, she'll _love_ that!"

He wants to surprise her tomorrow at the conference. After some presentations and lectures, he's going to pop in and jokingly ask her to dinner. 'Your husband will never find out!' is going to be his big punchline. Dad's had this planned this for over two months. He's such a dork, but so is mom. That's why they work so well together. I'm certain that when she sees his face, she'll be the happiest woman on earth.

 _I'm gonna miss them. They'll be gone for the whole week! What am I going to do without them and their silly antics?_


	2. Chapter 2: The Start

The next day I wake up alone, the apartment eerily silent as I get ready for school. I have to take the bus, and there's a whooping five kids on it, _including_ me. That flu or whatever must be getting worse.

As we set up our desks in Physics, Alycia tells me Matt never met up with her like he was supposed to yesterday.

I pull the funny card. "So no condoms were used?"

It gets a small chuckle, but she rolls her eyes and goes, "C'mon, this is serious!"

"Oh, I'm sure he's fine hon. You'll see him later today and realize you were overreacting."

As a whole two more kids pop into the room, my eyes peer to the door and Alycia pokes me in the rib with the eraser end of her pencil. "Look who's baaack!"

I slap at her pencil, making it drop to the floor. "Oh, stop it. You know she's not my type."

Her name is Rhea, one of the girls in many of our classes. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, but personality extremely lacking in empathy and compassion. She asked me out last year, and I said no, but she doesn't seem to understand the term. Even now, she gives me a small wave and a flirtatious wink. I respond with an awkward wave of my fingers.

"She seems to think otherwise." Alycia winks to me playfully. It's my turn to roll my eyes at her.

"As if. I'm into people who have a heart."

The class goes on as normal. Some boring lecture starts and Alycia moves to the side with a group of her other friends. They crowd around a single phone, all watching it in a mix of shock and wonder.

"Ladies, am I confiscating phones today?" Mrs. Pruelle, our teacher, asks. I don't think they even hear her.

"Guys..." I scooch over to them and poke at Lauren's shoulder, the one holding the phone.

She shoes my hand away. "Yeah, yeah, just one more second."

My eyes go to the screen and I furrow my brows in confusion. It's of the highway shooting last night.

The video is of a man who seems to be hurt aggressively biting a huge chunk out of a cops shoulder. The injured man lies on the ground, pulling the cop down with him. The cop pushes him away, silently screaming. He runs away from the injured man, though the man gets up and starts a limping chase to other cops. Scared, some of them shoot at him in an attempt to stop him. He goes to his knees, but somehow he's still alive.

"It's not real. It can't be real." Alycia says, sounding bored.

"Seems real to me," another friend, Nora, replies with wide eyes glued to the phone. She's obviously terrified.

"Watch. Here's the new reel." Lauren pulls the phone closer to us. With one last shot to the head, the man finally falls over. Dead.

"Boom! Killshot, bitches." Lauren says. Sarah puts a hand over her mouth in shock. Alycia rolls her eyes. I'm inclined to agree with the latter movement. Videos like this are made all the time on the internet. It's all fake.

Alycia goes to her own phone. "Matt's not texting me." She says, concerned.

A hand pulls up next to the phone. "And you're not texting him. Give it up, Alycia." Mrs. Pruelle; she snuck up on us. _Whoops_.

Alycia immediately pulls the device close to her chest, not wanting to hand it over. Before Pruelle makes another comment, our principal's voice rings through the intercoms. "Good morning again, students. The district has decided that today will be a half-day. I repeat, today will be a half-day. When the bell rings, proceed to your buses in a calm, orderly fashion."

 _Calm, orderly fashion? Since when does someone say that on school announcements?_

Madison pops into the doorway, pulling Alycia aside for a moment. I look over to them, worried. Unannounced half-day, "calm, orderly fashion," highway shooting?

"Tina, c'mere." Madison waves me over, and I follow the motion.

"Yeah?"

"When the bell rings, I want you and Alycia to go to my house, okay?" My heart swells at the motherly affection.

"But… My apartment-"

"Just to be safe. Your parents are out of the country, I'm sure they'd be just fine with you coming after all this craziness, right?"

I think for a moment and give a heavy shrug of my shoulders. "Sure, I guess."

"What about Nick?" Alycia asks.

"You two will be there in case he comes back."

" _When_ he comes back." Alycia corrects.

Madison gives a grim smile to her daughters' words. " _When_. Yeah."

The bell rings and Madison waves us goodbye as she walks out the classroom, and the two of us head to our desks. Alycia haphazardly shoves her binder and pencils into the large pouch of her backpack, whereas I put my items in neatly.

"He run off again?" I ask somberly, referring to Nick. She hadn't told me anything.

"He always does." Alycia huffs out, throwing her backpack over her shoulder.

"But he always comes back." I offer a small shred of hope. She doesn't comment as we head to the buses.

Originally, I believed we would follow Madison's plan to go to the Clarke household via bus. The only issue is that Alycia gets on the wrong one.

"Alycia, we're four. Not seven." I point to the number on the bus. A strong, dark seven is written on the yellow metal.

"I want to see Matt first." She answers nonchalantly, getting on the first step.

"Alycia!" I hurl out, but she doesn't turn back. Weighing the pros and cons of going to her house alone, I step on seven with her. I can't stop the sinking feeling in my stomach as the engine roars to life and the bus shakes out of the parking lot.

* * *

The bus drops us off about ten minutes from Matt's house. He lives close towards the beachside, and it's a decently warm day, so the small walk isn't taxing. As we hop off the bus and it rolls away, Alycia offers me an earbud. I take it from her, standing close so we can both listen to the music.

I note how slow and quiet it is. Normally, LA streets are alive and bustling with people, even during the day while most are at work and school. Today, the only other people on the street are a couple skateboarders on the sidewalk. It's odd.

When we reach his house—which I'd only been to once before, for a Halloween party—I immediately sense something wrong. I pull away from Alycia, dropping my earbud in the process, and furrow my brows at the front door ajar. If someone was home, they would close and lock it behind them. _Oh, no_.

Alycia haphazardly balls the earbuds into a mess and shoves them in her pocket. She pulls through the door, and her feet pound the elegant stairs as she stalks up them. To the left of the staircase, a black coffee table is knocked over, with the dirt of a potted plant littering the tiled floor.

"Alycia-" I start, voice trembling without my consent.

"Matt?" She calls out from the top of the stairs, walking down the small hallway to the left. I bound up after her, taking two at a time to reach her.

 _It's quiet. Too quiet for Matt._

I take a right at the top, to the small living area. Another table knocked over, and a vase full of bright flowers littering the ground. Not only that, but a chair and tall lamp pushed over.

"What the hell happened here?" I whisper to her, the silence in the room tense. Alycia's eyes dart around the space, desperate to know the answer. I can almost pinpoint the moment her blood pressure spikes.

"Matt?" She calls out again, going into the open kitchen and walking briskly through the other side. I follow not far behind, hoping we can find him. Or some answers.

We turn through the open concept hallway again, reaching the other side of the house, to where the couches are. On the ground, we find Matt, his raspy breathing filling my ears. His deep black skin is nearly ashen, and sweat pours from his forehead. _Good lord, what happened to you?!_

"Oh, my god." Alycia breathes out, and runs over to him. She drops to her knees at his side. "Baby? Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

More questions fly out of her mouth at lightning speed. It's almost like he's too sick to respond. _Bloody hell, it looks like he contracted the plague, or something worse.  
_

"Tina, help me get him up." She commands, and I try to grab at his other side.

"C'mon, Matt. Let's get you to bed." Alycia says soothingly. Together (with much effort on my side; my arms are like noodles,) we pull him off the ground and manage to weakly limp him to inside his room and onto the large bed in the middle. At Alycia's request, I call 911, but the damn line is _busy_. So she goes to call his parents.

"Vegas trip." He mutters out, voice raspy. He coughs immediately after, sounding like he's hacking up a lung.

But Matt's right; Alycia gets nowhere with the call. Neither of them pick up. We move him around some more, trying to get him more comfortable in his bed, but each touch elicits a hiss of pain. More than once has Matt flinched away, our gentle pats overstimulating. Alycia pulls her phone out of her pocket once we deem Matt's situated enough.

"Dammit." She mutters under her breath.

"What?" I ask, standing from my side of Matt. The damn bed's so big, and I am _way_ too short for it. I barely come in at 5'2".

"I _just_ missed a call from mom." She rips the earbuds out of the phone and presses _Call Back._

It rings for a total of 0.2 seconds before Madison picks up. "Mom." Alycia breathes into the phone receiver. Her voice sounds so pained.

A few seconds pass by, probably of Madison yelling at Alycia for not being home like she had asked. I mentally wince; I'm gonna have to apologize for that, too. I'm supposed to be a good influence.

"No, I can't." She says. I leave the room to grab a hand towel and thermometer from the bathroom, pouring cold water into the fabric.

I look over to Alycia as I put the damp washcloth on Matt's forehead, whispering, "What's she saying?"

She holds a finger up to shush me and I nod, putting the thermometer under Matt's unmoving tongue. My eyes gaze over to her as she suddenly jumps from her spot. "What?! No, I can't!"

Her voice drops a few octaves. "He's sick. He's _really_ sick... It's Matt... His fever's like-" I pull the thermometer out of his mouth and show her the numbers. "103."

"We had to move him from the ground, he can barely walk. It hurts when I touch him-"

My hand gently compresses the washcloth on his forehead, hopefully offering some form of comfort. His eyes move to mine. I don't think I've ever seen them so desperate. The chocolate orbs plead with my olive-green ones, but I can't tell what they're pleading _for_.

"I tried. It's-it's busy... His parents are in Vegas, they're not picking up."

A few seconds of silence occur, and Alycia begins to call out to Madison on the phone. "Mom? Mom!"

"What happened?" I ask, taking the washcloth back to the bathroom. I pour more cold water into it and set it back on Matt's forehead gingerly.

"They're coming to get us." She tells me. Alycia grabs Matt's hand, holding it tightly. "She wants me to stay away from him."

"I would say it's sound advice." I try to bring reason into the situation. "You don't want what he has."

"But I can't just walk away from him. He's _sick_. He's not gonna hurt me." She clutches the hand closer to her chest, kissing his knuckles.

 _ **He**_ _may not, but his immune system might._

* * *

I'm resting my side against the wall near the open door when Madison and Travis barge through it.

"Alycia," Madison says the second she walks in, "move away from him."

She's curled up beside Matt, gently pressing the washcloth to his forehead. "What's wrong with you?"

"People are getting sick, it could be contagious." Madison reasons. _Tried that already, love._

"If he has it, I have it."

"Alycia, can I talk to him? Please?" Travis asks.

She gives a small huff of indignation at the request, but stands up from the bed and pulls aside to the wall.

"Hey, Matt." Travis starts, and leans down to the beds height. "Where are your folks?"

"They should be home soon." Matt manages.

"They're driving home today." Alycia mentions.

"When did this start?" Travis asks, though he turns his head to address the question more towards Alycia.

"He was supposed to meet me at the beach yesterday, and... never showed up."

Matt begins another coughing fit, and it sounds dry in his throat. Travis grabs the glass from Matt's nightstand and holds it over his shoulder to Alycia.

"Alycia, would you...?" Travis refers to filling up the glass. With a roll of her eyes, she takes the glass and heads to the kitchen.

"I'll, um, I'll follow her." I say to Madison and Travis. Madison gives me a gratuitous nod, and I scamper through the hall after my friend.

It's not long before the glass is filled and we make our way back to Matt's room. We hear the end of a conversation, with Travis whispering, "It wasn't like this. Get the girls."

"What're you talking about?" Alycia asks, concern in her words.

Madison takes a few steps back, going towards us and the door. "I'm gonna call 911 from the car."

"Okay, good. I'll wait for them."

"No, go outside." The response is quick.

"Mom!"

They both talk at the same time. My poor ears can barely keep up.

"Alycia, please listen to me," is overlapped by, "Why the hell are you doing this?!" Which is mixed with, "Don't do this right now," and, "Are you psychotic? He's sick!"

Alycia pushes past her mom and Travis and goes back to sitting by Matt's bedside.

Her voice makes her sound so small and hurt. "Do you want some water?"

Madison would have ripped Alycia from his side if it wasn't for Travis. His hands go to hers, holding them tightly as he whispers, "It's okay," to her.

Matt shakes his head to Alycia, a feat for his very weak body. And when he begins to speak, I'm astounded. I haven't seen this much activity in him all day. "Listen to me. My parents will be home soon. You know I'll be fine. You know that."

Alycia shakes her head. "No, I'm not leaving you." Her hands grasp at his tightly. "I love you."

Matt breaks out into the weakest smile. His hand goes to the middle of her forearm, tracing a spiral drawn in marker. "I love you, too. That's why you gotta go. Okay? You gotta go."

She doesn't move from her spot, but Matt presses again. " _Go_."

Alycia leans down, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. His hand goes around her shoulder, rubbing chaste circles to get her moving.

I go to Alycia, my hand gently touching her other shoulder. "C'mon, it's time to go."

She slowly rises from her spot, turning so she doesn't look at me when we go out the door. I hear Madison softly thank Matt for getting her to move.

Travis and Madison follow behind us as we go down the hall, down the stairs, and outside. It's quiet; not something normal with the Clarkes. Though, in this situation, nothing is really _normal_ , is it?

Nick is outside by the truck, waiting for us. He's sporting a baggy pair of pants, a white and yellow striped shirt, and a pale, puffy jacket.

"Hey." I say. Alycia wordlessly passes him, hopping into the truck and flinging the door shut behind her. My eyes glaze over her as she stuffs earbuds in and turns the music up.

"Hey." Nick responds.

"Nice outfit." I note, pointing to the Old Man outfit.

"Not mine."

"No shit." He stole them. Only explanation. It was probably either that or a Johnny from the hospital.

Madison and Travis open the front door to the house, and Travis tells us to pile in. _This is gonna be one hell of an awkward ride._

* * *

 _A/N: Hello again! What do you think so far? Does it read better than the original? Let me know :^)_


	3. Chapter 3: Babysitting the Clarkes

The damn truck could technically only seat three, legally. But we're trying to stuff five, like a can of packed sardines. Pepper in the fact that the AC's been broken since I've known the Clarkes (which is about three years, mind you,) we all get hot and sticky in the May heat and multiple bodies. It's a blessing when we finally make it to the house, even if Alycia's mad at all of us. She storms in the house first, ignoring Madison's calls at her back.

I hop out the truck, thankful for the personal space, and stretch my arms out as Nick and Madison pull out of our side. _Ugh, why is L.A. so hot?_ Nick follows after Alycia inside, and I go to follow but I stop at the sound of an overly cheery voice.

"Hey, Travis!" A friendly neighbor greets from across the street, in his hands a startlingly pink party hat. I'll admit, my curiosity is piqued as I note the bounce house, multiple balloons, and a table set up with plates and forks. _A kids party? Now?_

"You're having a party?" Travis voices for all of us, eyeing the decorations with confusion.

"Yeah, you should come by!" Another neighbor tells us. _His wife_. A small girl runs up to her and the mom affectionately rustles her hair. "Gladys is nine. Can you believe that? It's so scary."

"That's great." Travis answers, tone flat. As a family man, I'd expected him to be happier at the news, but he's been tense since Matt's house. Madison and Nick, too. _Wonder what happened._

"We have a _ton_ of food, if you wanna stop by. We're getting a bunch of cancels because of that bug going around." The wife waves a hand to us, a cheery smile on her face. "So, we'll see you!"

Travis and Madison both give small awkward waves in return. I don't bother. _Not my neighbor_. I head inside, grabbing my phone out of my pocket and heading into the bathroom. Alycia and Nick would be in their rooms, and Travis and Madison are still outside, so I have a quick minute to check up on mom and dad.

I leave the door half open and call mum, considering dad doesn't answer half the time. The sound is a little patchy, but I get through easy enough.

"Mum!" I call into the receiver, smiling. It's always good to hear her voice, even if it's through patchy static. _Only a few more days until I hear it in person._

"Cri...stina." The line cracks mid-name. "... So glad... hear you."

"You too, mum." I smile. "How's England? And the conference?"

"Cancelled." She says. "A bunch of doctors... canc- last minute because… couldn't… get- flight."

"Oh, that sucks. But you've been there, like, three days! What've you been doing?"

"Here, let me put you… speaker so dad can talk, too." I hear the crackled shuffling as she sets the speaker on.

"Hi, Smurfette!" Dad exclaims.

"Hi dad." I chuckle. My back leans against the sink, my foot tapping lightly on the tiled floor. "What have you two been up to?"

"We're trying… catch a flight back home… ight now." Mom takes over. "We're walking through the parking lot to… car and heading ov-to the airport."

"You already booked?"

"No, but we're hoping there's… ne we can hop on to… Sir?"

"What?" I ask, my brow furrowing.

This time my mom's voice is clear as day in my ear. She whispers out, "There's someone near our car."

"Sir? Something wrong?" Dad is loud through the phone as he tries to converse with the stranger. "We would like… you to move away from our car. Now."

I hear some muffled scuffling as someone moves, and I say, "Mum? Is everything okay?" My heartbeat picks up a little when she doesn't answer.

Instead, she asks the man, "Sir, are you okay? D'you need help?"

With a growl, I hear dad scream out. I can't tell if it's in pain or if he's scared or _what's_ _happening_ , and I grip my phone tighter. "Dad? Dad, are you okay?! Dad!"

"Charles!" My mom shrieks, and the phone clanks against the ground. More screams follow.

"Mum?! Dad?! Someone, answer me! What's going on?" I nearly start screaming. Then the line goes dead.

"No no no nonono." I repeat. Tears form in my eyes and I rapidly press the call back button. "Please, pick up." I growl through chattering teeth.

The call doesn't go through, and all I hear is mum's voice message.

"No!" I hiccup. My throat tightens, like I can barely breathe. _What just happened? Are you okay? What's going on?_

All those questions and more buzz through my head so fast I can barely process that the door to the bathroom flies open.

"Tina?" Nick asks, concerned. "What happened?"

My voice breaks as I look up to him. "I-I-I don't know. I called my parents, and something happened, and Idon'tknow if they're okay or what-" The words fly out of my mouth, gasping in between to try and catch my breath.

"Shh, hey." He says soothingly. His long arms go to envelop my shaking figure. "I'm sure everything's fine. They're okay."

"I'm not so sure about that." I hiccup into his shirt, a small trail of tears staining it in the process. My arms go around him, my grip tight. _Just to steady me._ The height difference between us is almost hilarious; my head barely reaches his chest, and his can rest comfortingly atop mine.

"Neither am I," Nick says honestly, and begins to rub small circles onto my back—a technique he knew worked on me when I was freaking out. "But you need to calm down. Crying won't help them, and it's not gonna help you. You need to think clearly, Tina."

A small bit of anger sparks at him for telling me such, but the rational part of my brain agrees. So I nod into his puffy jacket and try to steady my breathing.

"I'm gonna stay here," he says into my hair, "until you feel okay enough to let me go. Got it?"

"Yeah." I answer. My arms squeeze around him one last time and I pull away. My hand goes for the small hand towel by the sink and I chastely wipe my eyes clear of any tears. _He's right. They're gonna be okay. Just probably some idiot trying to steal their car. Or mom's purse. Or_ _ **something**_ _._

"Sorry." I apologize to him, shaking my head. "They just sounded really scared."

When he doesn't respond, I turn and get a good look at his face. _Oh good lord, is he okay?_ "... Nick?"

A thin line of sweat shines on his face, and there's a slight tremor to his overall appearance. The newfound grimace makes me think he's about to vomit. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah." He answers, a jerky nod following. "Okay, maybe not."

He dashes to the toilet behind me, pulling the seat up and dropping to his knees at the same time so he can throw up.

I scrunch up my nose in disgust, both at the sound and smell that immediately fills the room. "Madison! Travis! You're gonna wanna come in here."

Madison answers quickly, coming through the doorframe. "What happened?"

"He was fine one minute. The next..." I gesture to his hunched figure over the bowl.

"Oh, no." She mutters, bending down beside him to rub his shoulder soothingly.

"He's going through withdrawal." Madison explains, looking back to me from the ground. "He needs medicine."

I nod in understanding and clear my thoughts. _He's sick_. "What can I do to help?"

"Grab Alycia." She suggests. Nick bends away from the toilet and takes a deep breath, eyes shut tightly. His head bangs against the wall, but he doesn't so much as wince at the thump. "Tell her we need the buckets. She'll know what it means."

I give a curt nod and leave her alone with Nick, and quickly hop up the stairs.

"Alycia?" I call at the top, awaiting an answer. Nada.

"Alycia, your mum wants to you grab the bucket. Whatever that means." I explain as I make my way to the closed door. "We need you. Alycia?"

"Of course he needs the bucket," she opens the door, a deep sigh following her words. "He hasn't had anything in a while, right?"

She leans against the open doorframe, her height going over mine by a few inches. She gazes to me, a bored expression playing her features. _She's disappointed_.

I nod. "He just barfed jell-o cups into the downstairs toilet. Looks like shit."

"He never changes." She pulls her phone out of her pocket and haphazardly throws it to the bed behind her. "This cycle's been making its course again. He says he'll change but he won't. He never does."

"Have a little faith." I offer. She passes by me and I follow her through the hall. "Maybe he will. You can only repeat the same behavior so much before realizing it needs to change. Maybe this'll be the time he gets his shit together."

We make our way to what I assume is a maintenance closet of some sort. There's wound-up wires, different length pieces of wood, some tools, nails, et cetera. Set with an old sink towards the back. That's where Alycia goes, and she pulls up a bucket from underneath the sink.

As she sets the faucet up to fill the bucket, she turns to me with a smirk. "You're only saying that because you wanted to suck his dick freshman year."

"Did not!" I defend myself, an immediate blush flourishing on my cheeks.

"Soooo did."

"Did not! Just because I had a tiny crush on him doesn't mean I'd drop on my knees for him. I have _some_ form of class, you know." I stick my tongue out at her before she turns back to the sink and shuts the water off.

"Grab that empty one." She points to another empty bucket beside me on a shelf. I comply as she adds, "And, _please_." She tosses a couple sponges into the water-filled bucket and we make our way down the stairs. "You have no class. There's a reason we're friends."

"I have _some_ class." I roll my eyes. "I'm British."

"Doesn't prove anything, Hermione."

"I hate you."

"You _love_ me."

"Sure, let's go with that."

When we make it to the living room Madison is leaving a voice message for Nick's doctor, and Nick is writhing on the couch. _He's sweating buckets. Does this happen every time he goes through remission?_

"Hang in there, big brother." Alycia says drily, though her eyes wave over his form with concern as she sets her bucket beside the couch. His arms flail out in an attempt to get his jacket off. I go beside him, dropping my empty bucket on the table, and pull at a sleeve so I can free an arm for him. He mutters out a shakey thanks as he gets the other one off himself and tosses the jacket to the floor.

"We're gonna get you your medicine, okay?" Madison leans over his head, her hand gently going to a cheek as she sets a wet cloth on his forehead.

"The longer we leave him, the worse he gets." Alycia says to Madison. _Jesus, how many times have they gone through this? I know it's happened a couple of times, but damn. This_ _ **sucks**_ _._

"I know, I'm aware." Madison answers.

"He won't be able to travel." Alycia adds. _Wait, travel_?

"Alycia." Madison warns.

"I gotta-I gotta get under a blanket." Nick pants out, grabbing one set atop the couch. _Hot flashes, cold flashes. Poor thing._

"Mom, what are we gonna do?" Alycia grabs a pillow and tries to set it behind Nick's ever-moving form as Madison sets herself on her knees to tuck the blanket underneath him.

"I don't know. Dr. Han's not calling me back, and now I can't even reach Travis."

"Where'd he go?" I ask.

"He went to go pick up his son and Liza." Madison answers. "He wants them to come with us on the trip."

"Trip where?"

Madison's shoulders drop a little as she looks over to me. "I'll explain to you later." _Not a good sign._

Alycia changes the subject back to the phone. "Well, it's like after an earthquake. Circuits are overloaded."

Nick moans out in pain, and there's a flash of hurt in my chest. _I can't believe how many times Madison and Alycia have done this for him._

"Got anything stashed?" Alycia asks, hopeful.

"No." Madison grabs at the blanket as Nick thrashes underneath it, hoping to keep it in place.

"Vicodin, for wisdom teeth." I offer. Alycia had them pulled out about a year ago. And I may or may not have had video footage of her poking at marshmallows and calling them "tiny bunnies," while still under the effects.

"I flushed 'em."

"It's too dangerous for him to go cold turkey like this!" Alycia stresses.

"I know, I know." Madison looks down to him with a frown. "I-"

"The doctors! You can pick them up." When Alycia doesn't get an answer, she presses the issue. "Mom? The meds."

"Honey, I don't even know- I think they're closed! They're not calling me back, by the time I-" Madison stops mid-sentence, and I can almost see the smoke coming out of her ears from the gears turning in her brain. "Watch him."

She stands from the ground, and as she walks away from Alycia she points at her. "Promise me you won't leave the house."

"I won- I won't." Alycia nods, watching her mother's retreating form.

"Promise me!"

"I'll look after him." She huffs out.

Madison hastily grabs her keys off of the key holder beside the door. "Tina, come with me real quick."

I glaze over to Alycia and Nick before nodding and walking out the front with her.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She pushes the remote starter on her keys and the engine roars to life in the driveway. "Travis and I decided that we're going away from here. Because of the flu."

I pause. "... Going away, where?"

"The desert." She nods to punctuate her words. "Travis and I think it'll be safer there for a bit."

"Safe until what? There's a cure?"

"Exactly."

My brain follows up. "And you're issue is me."

"I can't leave you here, _alone_ , on good conscience. Do you know when your parents are comin' home?"

My eyes swiftly drop to the ground, finding the concrete suddenly interesting. "I... I don't know if they're coming back."

My voice is quiet and low; _**I**_ can barely hear myself, let alone Madison.

She takes a moment to process. "… Why do you think that?"

"I called them earlier." I explain. "It was fine, at first, but then- something happened. I couldn't understand half of it, but there was screaming, and something with my dad… Then the line went dead. I tried calling 'em back, but nothing."

I look up to her, my green eyes locking on her pale brown ones, and all I see is concern. She doesn't speak, at first. Just watches and gauges my body language. Then a hand goes to my shoulder, and she envelopes me in a half hug. "I'm sorry," she whispers in my ear.

"I'm-I'm fine." I manage to say. "They could be fine."

"But you have no way of knowing. That's gonna eat you up."

"... Yeah." I reluctantly agree.

"So," she clears her throat, changing the subject, "Would you like to come with us?"

I shake my head, "Well, it look like you guys have enough people to pack for. I wouldn't want to impose on the… family trip."

Her gaze softens. "You know you wouldn't be. You're like one of our own, Tina."

The edge of my lip quirks; the makings of a soft, shy smile. "If you don't mind, then I'd love to come with."

Madison nods. "Okay. When Travis gets home, I'll talk to him. We can stop by your apartment so you can pick up some things before we go."

"Thank you." I gratefully say. _She's so nice. I don't know many others who would do this for their daughter's friend._

"Anytime, hon." She goes down the front steps before turning back to me. "I shouldn't be gone too long. Please keep an eye out on Nick and Alycia."

"Of course."

With that, she opens her car door and drives off. I have no idea where, but she seems to think it'll help Nick out. At this point, I think _anything_ medicine-wise in his system would help out.

I go back inside, making sure to lock the door behind me, and go back to the living room. Instead of being on the couch, Nick lounges on the floor with the blanket pulled tightly around himself. It covers the top of his head and leaves a little space for him to see through, like a cocoon. It might've been a comical sight, if I didn't know why he had it on.

"Comfy?" I ask. I flop beside him on the floor, gently intertwining my fingers together and resting them on my bent knees.

He vigorously shakes his head. "No, but the couch is too soft." The sweat on his forehead is still there, shining proudly. I internally grimace. _Gross_.

"I see." I say. "Where'd Alycia go?"

"Bedroom." I nod. She probably wants to bolt back to Matt's house.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit." Nick pulls the blanket in closer. "I'm too hot, then I'm too cold, and the room is spinning, and then everything's too bright, and bla bla bla."

I comfortingly rub his shoulder through the blanket. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help."

"I'll be fine, eventually. I know the drill." Nick lets the blanket fall from his head and over his shoulders. "Want to help me get my mind off of it?"

"Does that help?"

"A little." He shrugs. "See that brown cabinet, next to the tv? Pick a DVD out. We'll watch it."

"Okay." I nod and pull myself up, lightly stretching out my back as I do so. I move in front of the wood cabinet and open the door, and kneel in front of it as I skim through the DVDs. My finger traces the edges of the cases. There are some in neat condition, and others more loved, with old creases and discolored tops.

As I pull one out, I give a little chuckle and look back to him. "Transformers? By Michael Bay?"

"Hey, freshman year was a dark time for me." Nick gives a weak laugh in response. His head rests on the couch cushion beside him. _Headache, maybe?_

I slide the movie back in its spot and pull out another one. "Oh, Finding Nemo! I love this one!"

"It's pretty cute." Nick agrees. He grows the blanket off in frustration and runs his hands shakily through his hair.

"I'll keep looking though. But Nemo's always a winner." I set it beside me and go to another section. "Oooh, Mulan is good, too. I think this was the first one I had on VHS as a kid."

"Yeah?" He looks over to me, a small smile playing on his lips. "I think mine was a Bug's Life."

"Never seen it."

"Oh, you missed out! I used to watch it all the time with Alycia growing up."

"What was the first movie you watched at the cinema?" I ask, turning around fully so I can look over to him.

"Cinema?"

"The movies, that's what you yanks call it." I explain. _Silly American terms._

Nick thinks for a moment. "The Incredibles? I think? I don't really remember."

"Pretty sure mine was Night at the Museum." I say. "I loved popcorn after that. I've been addicted since."

 _Oops_. My face externally drops a little. _Why?_ _ **Why**_ _would I say an addiction joke right now?!_

"I'm sorry." I apologize quickly. "I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, Cristina." Nick smiles at me. "Don't worry about it."

I nod outwardly; internally I berate myself. _Stupid, big bloody mouth._

"So, which movie is our lucky winner for the evening?" I ask, just to change subject. I hold up Finding Nemo and Mulan in each hand. "I'm not looking for anything else."

"Let's go for Nemo. I'm in the mood for it."

"You got it!" I quickly set up the player and turn on the tv. Once I'm done, I set myself on the couch and curl my feet up under my butt, taking over the right edge cushion, giving Nick some space on the floor.

Throughout the film, he readjusts the blanket on and off him, and more than once he hops on and off the couch. I'm slightly irritated at all the movement, but my empathy reminds me that he's most likely struggling to be still.

At the fourth or fifth movement from floor to chair (blanket off this time,) I set my hand on his shoulder. Nick jumps at the touch, eyes wide as he looks from me to my hand. _Stop moving_. His gaze softens, and he nods at the silent request. His hand goes over my own, warm and comforting, and he looks back to the screen. He snuggles into the cushion, leaning just a bit closer to me. _Don't blush, don't blush_.

As we watch Nemo swim to the boat and, "touch the butt," our hands fall from Nick's shoulder and into his lap, his other hand encircling mine as they settle comfortably. I look at him, wondering _just why is he doing that_ , but his eyes are still thoroughly trained on Nemo and Merlin on screen. _Does he know that I liked him? Is he playing me? Does he even realize what he's doing? Probably not. Right?_

I don't voice anything out loud. I just give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze and focus my mind on Nemo and his current capture.

* * *

Just as Merlin and Dory start talking to sharks, Alycia comes downstairs to make some food for the three of us. The sly look she gives me isn't unnoticed, and I mentally curse at her.

She comes out of the kitchen with two bowls in her hand and a thermos tucked under her armpit. "Here." She sets the bowls down in front of us and the thermos by the edge of the table.

I go for mine, pulling my hand out of the Nick cocoon and taking a few tiny sips of it. I relish in the warmth that spreads through my body and graciously thank her for the food.

"Oh, no." Nick groans. "I can't do hot right now."

"I'll make some gazpacho next time." Alycia says drily.

"Hey, if you won't eat it, I will." I offer to Nick. I eye the second bowl greedily.

"You can eat all that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Watch me." I challenge. He slides the bowl over to me and I pour some into my bowl. "Yay!"

As Nick watches me take spoonful after spoonful of chicken noodle, he grimaces. "Ugh, I can't even deal with the smell."

Alycia passes by us, telling him, "Okay, well, drink some water."

"I'm not thirsty." Nick's voices rises just a little. "Water is _not_ what I need."

"Yeah, I know what you _need_ , Nick." She snaps at him. She sits by the window, looking out into the street. "Mom's workin' on it."

I watch as Nick's face turns to a sickly green and he drops to the floor, grabbing the empty bucket and retching loudly into it. My nose immediately scrunches in disgust at the smell, and just to make matters worse, the kid across the street starts crying loudly. _What perfect timing._

I look over at Alycia; she hasn't even flinched at the smell. Her eyes still gaze out the window to little, nine-year-old Gladys. "It's her party, and she'll cry if she wants to."

Nick continues to vomit loudly in the bucket, groaning in between when he gets the chance to breathe. I pat his back comfortingly just as he goes back to the bucket to hack up more.

Alycia stands from her spot, goes to grab her backpack and snatches the thermos from the table.

"Alycia." I say warningly.

"Woah, woah, where are you going?" Nick manages to pant out. "Hey. Alycia!"

"I'll be fast." She answers, annoyed.

"Alycia, I don't think that a good idea." I try to advise. I set the soup on the table and follow her, hoping I can snap some sense into her. _Madison would be furious if I let her go._

"No no no! You _can't_ go back there!" Nick nearly screams at her. He's shaking on his spot from the ground, and he sounds _terrified_.

"I have to go see him-"

"You _promised_ mom! You promised-"

Alycia interrupts him, seething. " _You_. Make promises _ALL THE TIME_! Nick!"

He tries to stand up to meet her level, but Alycia yells at him. " _LIE DOWN_!"

"I'm an asshole. I'm an asshole." He reasons with her, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay? But listen. Alycia, you can't go back there. If you leave you won't come back. _Please_."

She raises an eyebrow. "You let mom go."

"Not safe." He mumbles from the ground. "No, _Matt_! Matt is not safe."

 _Jesus, what is he talking about? Matt's just sick. Bad, but just sick._

"Oh, jesus." Alycia rolls her eyes at him and stalks to the front door. My hand twitches at my side, as if it wants to reach out to her, but I know Alycia. Once her mind's made up, there's no changing it.

"No, Alycia. You just don't get what it makes people do." Nick begs. He's on the floor, crawling his way to her with what little energy he has. _He seems so spooked_. "You don't get what _I HAD TO DO_! Alycia, you don't know!"

"Oh, _what_ , Nick? What did you do?!" She shouts back at him and makes it to the door. She slams it shut behind her. _God dammit_.

"Alycia!" I call back to her.

"Matt will hurt you Alycia!" Nick keeps begging to her.

"Nick, it's no use—" I start as he tries to stand again, using the coffee table as leverage to boost himself up.

I go to his side, trying to help him balance, but he's so unsteady that he almost falls again. "He will _kill_ you, Alycia! I'm serious—"

Nick's legs go out from under him, and he takes the coffee table and me tumbling down. I fall on my side, groaning in pain and the glasses on the coffee table shatter on the ground. But I could hardly care about that. It's Nick I'm worried about.

He's writhing on the floor; thrashing fiercely with no end in sight. He tries to cover his mouth, but he vomits out in the air. It lands on his face, and through the fog in my brain I realize he might be choking on it, too.

"ALYCIA!" I scream out. I try to put him on his side, _just like in health class_ , but he keeps writhing under my touch. "ALYCIA, _NOW_!"

The front door is thrown open and she tosses the backpack and thermos to the floor. She drops to her knees on his other side fervently. "No no no, _Not now_. _NOT_ _NOW_!"

"What do we do?" I try to keep my voice steady, but I can't stop my hands from shaking. I repeat the words like a mantra in my head. _What do I do? What do I do?_

"Don't do this to me, Nick!" She doesn't answer. Her eyes are watery as she goes to his head, keeping it on her thighs as she tries to hold him steady. "Don't do this to me now, you stupid son of a bitch!"

She sticks her fingers in his mouth, scooping out the rest of his vomit and getting it on the floor. He grunts at the motion, spitting up more, but his ministrations calm down a little.

"There," Alycia whispers to him, "Stay still. Shhhh."

Once he finally stops moving, Alycia's eyes look over to me. "Can you..." Her light brown hues are glassy as she tries to get a full sentence out. "Can you grab that bucket and clean this up?"

"Yeah." I pant out. My blood is still pumping fast, my rush of adrenaline still going strong. _He's okay now. He's fine_.

My legs are shaky but I manage to stand and haul the bucket over. Alycia grabs a hand towel and cleans the vomit off Nick's face before moving him on the couch again. It looks like he passed out. _That seizure must've taken all his energy._

Alycia and I both grab sponges from the water and go on our hands and knees to furiously scrub at the ground to get the vomit out. We both also don large blue gloves, which I hate. They're hot and sticky inside, but very much needed.

It's quiet in the Clarke house. Besides the scrubbing on the floor, I can think clearly, if only for the hour before the siblings start bickering again.

"I'm sorry." Nick grumbles out, voice low and deep.

Alycia replies by scrubbing just a little harder at a spot that's already clean.

"She should have been back by now." She changes the subject.

"Yeah, I know."

"Someone should have called," she leans back and rests on her butt with a sigh, "by now."

"I'm sure Madison and Travis are fine." I say. It's not much in terms of comfort, but I don't have much to work with in the moment.

Nick leans over the edge of the arm rest, looking over to the two of us. "Thank you." He says to Alycia.

She doesn't respond; she just sighs and takes her gloves off slowly. Her gaze is unwavering when she looks up to him. "I hate you."

"I know."

 _Ouch. If this is what it's like to have siblings, then thank you mum and dad for not giving me any._

Suddenly, all the lights in the house flicker and shut off. I hop up and look outside the window. _Looks like the party across the street did, too._

"Wonderful." I murmur. "Just what we need."

"Whole street?" Alycia asks, almost sounding bored. It's like she expected something else shitty to happen.

I nod grimly. "Yup." I pop the, "p," at the end, accentuating my mild anger.

"We have candles and flashlights and shit for something like this." Nick informs. "Flashlights are in the top left cabinet. In the kitchen."

"You got it." I head into the kitchen and grab the spares. There's four in it, one for each person in the house. They're set on the living room table while Alycia goes to grab the candles and set them up around us and in the kitchen. There's one for the bathroom downstairs, a couple in the kitchen, and multiple with us in the living room. We watch the sun go down slowly, all of us silent while we wait for the return of Madison and Travis.

* * *

It's nearly pitch black outside by the time Madison comes home. The clock on the wall tells me it's almost 10:30, and I pray it's right. The power keeps coming off and on like crazy. At the moment, the lights are on, so we can welcome Madison with lamplight and the rest of Finding Nemo as light background noise.

Her face is void of any emotion, and it scares me. Madison's generally an expressive person, so the thought of something spooking her to the point where she wears a mask is terrifying.

"What took you so long?" Alycia grabs the door for her mother, clearly annoyed.

"Shut the door." Madison answers, monotonous. _Woah_. "How's Nick?"

"Never better." He answers for the couch. Silently I shake my head to her. _Uh uh. That seizure was terrifying._

"He went grand mal on us." Alycia whispers, quiet enough so he can't hear.

Madison rests a hand on my shoulder and one on Alycia's and gives a quick, reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry."

Alycia and I walk away from Madison, but not before she asks, "Did Travis call?"

"No, sorry." I answer. Alycia goes to the kitchen, and I can hear the start of a voicemail being made to Matt. He still hasn't called her back. I'm starting to think he's not going to. Ever.

I hop in the open spot besides Nick on the couch, kicking my feet up under my butt as I pull my phone out of my pocket. With 43% battery left, I could probably make it last until morning and still get a couple rounds of Fruit Ninja on it.

Madison comes to me and Nick and hands him two small white pills. "We ration those."

He takes them happily and looks quickly at the inscription. "Oxy? Oxy's good."

I watch in both disgust and slight entertainment as he sets them on the table and begins to grind them with the bottom of his glass. "How much?"

"Enough to get us to the desert." Madison replies.

"And then what?" He looks up to her, waiting for a response. He doesn't get one. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. _And then hopefully you won't need it any more._

"Hey," Nick snaps his fingers and points to the kitchen, "she tried to leave. I stopped her."

"Oh, bollocks." I snap at him. "You, 'stopped her,'" I use air quotations at the phrase, "by giving both her _and_ me a heart attack. Don't act like a white knight, ya git."

His eyes widen at me and I raise an eyebrow, a smirk on my lips. _Challenge me, I dare ya._

The grin on Madison's face doesn't go unnoticed by me. Nick's too busy looking at me to notice, but I can tell she's glad I took him off his pedestal.

As she leaves, Nick goes back to grinding the pills down to a tiny grains, and I go back to my Fruit Ninja level. I get to my grand finale win before I look down to Nick as he presses his thumb to one nostril and starts to snort the powder.

"Gross." I scrunch my nose in disgust. "Can't you just swallow them?"

"It's quicker this way." He shakes head quickly, rubbing his nose at the first inhale. "And trust me, I need it quick."

"Whatever you say, mate." I shake my head disapprovingly, but _whatever. Not my problem._

As the power cuts out the fourth time, Madison, Alycia, and I go around the house to light up the candles again. Nick is just about passed out on the couch, taking up two thirds of the comfy decor. I set myself on the last cushion. I'm ready to pass out, too, and I couldn't be bothered to trudge up the stairs to Alycia's room.

That is, before a blood-curdling screams sounds through the street. I jump in my spot and bolt to the window, just like Alycia and Madison.

"What's happening?" I ask, peering over Alycia's shoulder. Someone, a female, is being overpowered by someone. She screeches in agony as he holds her down in her spot. My stomach drops and my heart rate flies.

"Don't look!" Madison grabs the curtains and shuts it in front of the two of us. "Don't look!"

"But, Madison!-" I start.

"Mom, Mr. Dawson's hurting her!" Alycia shouts, completely frightened. _I am, too._

Alycia pulls back at the blinds and we both see that the girl gets away. With newfound vigor, Alycia runs to the front door, flashlight in hand and ready to help whoever is getting hurt. I follow, my mind screaming to help the poor girl.

"No, Alycia!" Madison calls out, running faster than us. Just as Alycia gets the door open Madison slams against it, keeping herself between us and helping that woman.

"Mom, what are you doing?!" Alycia goes for the door again, but Madison swats her hand away. "Mom!"

"I can't let you girls go out there. I can't." Is all she says. And it clicks in my head why.

I slowly make my way back to the couch, taking my spot beside Nick. He seems more relaxed. _The drugs._

"That's why you didn't let Alycia go, right?" I ask quietly. My eyes, trained to the floor, gaze over to him. "It's the disease."

His brown eyes, striking and wide, give it away before he nods. "It makes people go crazy. It's like they're animals. That's what I saw at the church; that's what Matt's gonna be."

 _Not human_.

"That..." I sigh. "Poor Alycia. That fucking _sucks_."

He leans into the couch cushions, throwing a blanket on top of himself. "Yeah, it does."


	4. Chapter 4: The Saddest Game of Monopoly

_A/N: Alright, four chapters updated! Hopefully the updates don't take too long and I can get writing the rest of the story for you all!_

* * *

After the new revelation, I'm way too awake and scared to go to sleep. And it seems like everyone else has the same thought.

Throughout the night, the power comes on and off, which means the female Clarkes and I run around lighting candles in the dark and blowing them out when the lamps flash to life each time. Nick stays on the couch, resting easily from the use of his new meds. At around one, he starts complaining about needing more. At the time, we're graced with lamplight.

Alycia is by the window, peering out with a flashlight in hand. I can't look out there again, not with the new revelation of that disease. It forces you to harm others, and you no longer die like a normal person. You need to get _shot in the head,_ like that homeless person video attacking the police. What kind of disease does that?!

I don't want to watch that disease hurt anyone else outside the window tonight, so I focus my energy on sitting comfortably on the couch next to Nick and playing a few rounds of Temple Run. I also watch as Madison hands Nick a full glass of water and she shakes two more pills out of the container.

As something scrapes by outside, Alycia looks to Madison. "What was that sound?"

"I don't know." Madison says truthfully. "But it's gone."

Madison drops the pills into Nick's hand as Alycia continues. "What did Mr. Dawson do to the Cruzes?"

" _He's_ gone."

"Yeah, but what the hell did he do?" Alycia sets the flashlight back on the table and goes to sit on the single rocking chair, curved on Nick's side of the couch to point at the tv screen.

"I don't know, but we're safe, inside, okay?"

I set my phone in my lap as yet again, Nick starts to grind the pills on the coaster with his glass of water.

"Oh, come on, Nick! Please, just swallow them?" Madison complains.

He shakes his head jerkily. "No, it takes too long to absorb. I'm not there yet." He twists his wrist, grinding the pills more.

"The idea is to _wean_ you off the pills, not to-" Madison starts.

"Um," he stops his movements to stare up at his mom, "Who's the expert?"

"I wouldn't exactly call that an expertise." I murmur quietly.

"Hey, mom, I need more." He ignores me.

"No shit. Later." She rolls her eyes at him. _Ouch_.

"How much do we have?"

"We have enough to get you east. Don't worry."

"And then?"

"And then you howl at the moon." She raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for a rebuttal. "Look, Travis will be here. We'll go."

He huffs out a sigh, skeptical. "You sure?"

"Nick!" Alycia stops him before he can say anything else.

"Not cool, mate." I shake my head at him. _He can be such an asshole_.

"He's coming." Madison says firmly, and before he can say anything else she leaves the room. If I were in her spot, I probably would've slapped him for saying something like that.

"Okaayy." Nick answers, singsong-like. _He really doesn't believe her. Rude_.

When I can't see Madison's form, I lightly kick at Nick's leg. "Don't do that to her."

"Do what?" He asks innocently.

"Don't put those thoughts in her head." I state clearly. "Travis is gonna be fine, and even if he isn't she needs to believe he is. That's just an asshole thing to do."

"I'm just trying to be realistic here." He puts his hands up in surrender. "It sucks, but we can't think about things like in the past."

"'In the past.'" Alycia repeats. "You sound like Gandalf. Nothing's changed."

His eyes are wide as he looks to her. "The whole world's changing."

"Sure it is, brother dear." She sighs, monotonous.

"Don't believe me, fine. You'll see soon enough." He shakes his head at her, but goes back to grinding the pills down into as fine a dust as possible.

Then be bends down to snort it up. I grimace at the noise. _Ugh, I long for the day he only swallows the damn things._

Madison returns moments later, in her hands the ruthless object at which many families tear themselves apart. Where parents disown children and children rise and enslave their creators without an inch of remorse.

Monopoly.

" _Really_?" Alycia asks in disbelief.

"Yep." Madison pops the, "p," and smirks down to us. As she sets the board on the table in front of the couch Nick immediately jumps from his spot.

"I'm the top hat!" Madison claims.

"Car." Alycia grins.

"Shoe." Nick takes.

"I'll take the cute little puppy!" I say.

The four of us go on the ground, opening up the various parts to the awful, family wrecking game.

"Dad away always the shoe." Alycia looks over to Nick, curious.

"Daddy wouldn't mind." Madison shrugs contently.

"So, what'd you wanna be, the thimble?" Nick teases.

"No." Madison stretches it out.

"I'm. The. Car." Alycia stresses out, a wide grin set on her face.

"The caaar." Nick sticks his tongue out at her. "All right."

"Alright, who wants to go first?" Madison asks.

"Youngest to oldest." Nick says. "I am gonna wipe the floor with you guys. I can feel it."

"Calm down there, yank. You've never played against me." I grin maliciously at him.

"Back at ya, dawling." Nick uses a very fake British accent against me, and I roll my eyes.

"This game's evil, dude. Kindergarten capitalism." Alycia points out.

"Yeah." Madison nods. It's not a lie.

"That's the best part!" I defend.

"Shut up and roll." Nick demands. I stick my tongue out at him and grab the dice. I'm the youngest, but not by much. Nick's 19, Alycia's 18, and I'm 18, but a few months younger. _Ha ha, Alycia!_

I roll and manage to get a five.

 _Here we go._

* * *

"Okay, okay. One, two, three," Nick says, lightly tapping his piece on the board each time he announces a number, "four, _five_. That's Boardwalk. And I will buy that, please."

"Oh, my god." Alycia groans.

"Alright, alright." Madison concedes, groaning in defeat as he pays her. "$400. Sold!"

I throw my head back onto the couch cushion and close my eyes, whimpering. "This isn't fair."

"I thought you were gonna kick my ass?" He asks innocently, smirking. He leans in close and when I open my eyes he's right in front of me, teasing. "So far the only place you got is Connecticut Avenue."

I squint menacingly at him, twisting my head to get just a little closer and _personal_ , as is custom when trying to intimidate an enemy. "I've only been around the board _twice_. Mark my words, Nick Clarke, I _will_ get Park Place and screw your monopoly over."

"Sounds like we're both screwed in that sense. You wouldn't get that monopoly either." He quirks an eyebrow up.

"It'll be unholy matrimony." I counter lazily, turning my head ever-so-slightly so it lands on his shoulder.

"Play smart, Tina." Madison tells me. "He'll bite your head off if you take it."

"I dare him to try." I say from his shoulder. His arm goes around my own and he lightly pats it.

"She's not wrong." He agrees with her. My skin tingles as his hand settles on me.

"Hey, hey, play fair, Nick." Alycia warns him. "I remember that time you cheated a few years ago."

"A few years ago?!" He counters. "I was 12!"

"You still cheated."

"You cheated too! You stole my house."

"You two are giving me a headache." I bring my hands up to my temples and rub at them.

"C'mon, guys, don't treat the houseguest like that." Madison tells her kids. "We want her to keep coming back after all this is over."

"Do we?" Nick questions. I elbow his side in response. "Ow. Okay, because of that I'm gonna get Park Place just to spite you."

"I highly doubt that." I move my elbow back and scoot into his side a little more. He squeezes his arm around me in response. _I have to say, I'm pretty surprised. Okay,_ _ **extremely**_ _surprised. But I like it._

"I don't know." Alycia says skeptically. "He always gets the best places on the board."

"You say that now, but oh, look at that, I'm crushing you guys!" Madison holds up her pile of money in one hand and her slowly growing pile of cards in the other. "You're pathetic."

As she goes to roll the dice there's a distant sound of what almost sounds like firecrackers. But then I realize, _not firecrackers. Gunshots._

We all get a little quiet, looking off to the window, upset. I allow myself to lean in more to Nick's touch and his arms drops from my shoulder and go to my back, wrapping around my middle. My head goes into the crook of his heck contently. The world may be going to shit, but at least I have good company to experience it with.

"Mom." Nick says, trying to bring all of us out of our thoughts. She finishes her roll and moves three spaces, landing on my single space. She pays me the money owed, and I lean forward out of Nick's touch to grab it. It's funny how I feel so cold without his arm wrapped around me.

"How long are we gonna wait?" Alycia asks quietly. I silently take my turn and roll the dice. _Fuck_. I skip past Park Place and land on Boardwalk. But the playful mood has drained, so I don't make any teasing comment as I hand Nick his money.

"We can go to sleep soon." Madison answers, her voice dropping a couple octaves.

"Yeah, I can't sleep if I'm waiting for someone to come home." Alycia replies. There's no playful tone, no boredom, nothing. She just sounds... Sad?

She's even quieter as she adds, "I'm having a major case of déjà-vu right now."

I can only assume she means about her father's death. I never met Mr. Clarke; he passed away just after I moved to L.A. I've only heard about the little stories Alycia's told me. Even then, no one really talks about him. _Hurts too much, I guess_.

They three of them all go silent at the admission. _What happened to him?_ Not that I ask. Instead, I bring my hand to my back and find Nicks, giving it a gentle squeeze in consolation.

It's silent, just for a moment. A deafening, painful quietness that spreads over us. The Clarkes, because they're experiencing a loss all over again, and me, who can't do anything to help her closest friends.

"Um, when was the last time you ate?" I ask Nick softly, twisting my head so I can look up at him.

"Hmm," he murmurs, looking down to me, "I haven't had anything since I barfed."

"How about we grab some food, then?" I offer. I look over to Madison and Alycia, pointing out that the offer is for everyone. Hopefully getting food will help change the mood.

"Yeah, we could take a break from this." Madison agrees, and one by one we all stand and make our way to the kitchen.

"Alycia, what're you craving?" Madison asks, opening up their junk food cabinet.

"Ooh, hand me the Cheez-its." She points at them. Madison grabs a bag and tosses it over to Alycia, which she catches. _Nice! I wouldn't have made that_.

"Nick?"

"The popcorn." He requests. Madison tosses him a bag.

"Tina?"

"Cheetos, please." I walk up to grab it. Horrible hand-eye coordination, so I just _know_ I couldn't catch it if she tossed it. Alycia and I go to the small three-seater table in the corner of the kitchen, quietly taking bits of our chips as Madison goes to make herself a protein shake.

"So, what do we do if he doesn't come back?" Nick asks. I internally groan. "It's been like six hours. How bad can traffic be?"

"Well, he-" Madison starts, but the lights go off. Again. Internally, the groan turns into a scream. _Not again_.

"Alycia, will you put the game away?" Madison changes the subject.

"Mom, I don't really wanna-" Alycia starts.

"You know the rules, loser puts the game away." Madison grabs the flashlight from the counter and turns it on, pointing at Alycia. Her daughter gives a look of annoyance before she starts moving.

The light keeps trailing her until she says, "All right, I'm going!"

"Tina, will you help?" Madison points the light at me, momentarily blinding me. "You _were_ second to last."

I scoff. "Hardly. But sure."

"Thanks."

In the darkness I manage to make my way over to the table, only tripping on the edge of the couch once. I swear out loud as I hit my knee on the edge, the searing pain shooting up quickly before dissipating.

"And you tried to tell me you had class." Alycia says smugly. I can hear her grabbing the fake money and sorting it out.

"I do! Just not while your couch physically assaults me." I defend myself. I pop down to the floor and start grabbing the place cards to pile them up, then the community chest and chance cards.

"You and, ah, you and Nick seemed pretty close during our game…" Alycia notes slyly. She grabs one of the flashlights and sets the light on me so can see me blush furiously.

"I-in a game like Monopoly," I stammer at first, but quickly stand my ground, "keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

"Oh, so you were just using him, huh?" She teases as I put the lid on the box. "Just strategy?"

"Of course. That was _freshman_ _year_ , 'Lych." I manage. _I'm hopeless. Guess the crush hasn't fully dissipated, now has it?_

The light badgering is cut short as we hear a noise coming from outside. Scratching? Alycia goes to the window with the flashlight, scanning the street with peering eyes. I go by her side, my heart hammering just a little faster as she and I see something move in the dark.

We head into the kitchen, Alycia telling Nick and Madison, "It's happening again."

Madison follows us to the window, a little spring in her step from the mild peak of fear. She pulls some blinds apart, making a little pocket so we can see better.

'"Is it Mr. Dawson?" Alycia asks. I peer just under her shoulder, trying to detect the source of the movement across the street.

Madison shushes her and twists the beam of her flashlight around. "I don't see anything."

"Okay, we need to get away from the windows." Nick announces, voice shrill. He yanks a set of blinds closed with shaky fingers, and I take a step back to get out of his way. Madison stands, frozen, beside the window, staring at it with furrowed brows, like she's still mentally processing. Through the dark I see Nick's hand go to her shoulder, tugging her away. The fear in his voice shines through as he murmurs to her. Silently, Alycia and I peer at the open set of blinds, trying to glimpse anything out of the ordinary.

"Girls, come on down here." Madison calls to us. Alycia gives me a look of discontent before we obey the order and head into the dining room.

The scraping noise gets louder in there, and all of us jump when we hear a loud squeak. Madison shines her flashlight to the wall behind the dinner table. It's completely covered with old curtains, and I know that behind them are glass sliding doors that lead to the backyard. The squeaking and scraping are coming _directly_ from it. _What's on the other side? Is it one of the diseased people? Are they coming to hurt us?_

Nick takes a couple silent steps to the door, seemingly the bravest out of us. "Nick." Madison whimpers to him, trying to get him to stop. He shushes her and puts a finger to his mouth as a signal. _No one talk._

His fingers curl around the edge of the first set of curtains. Another surge of fear rolls through me. _He's going to_ _ **open**_ _them!_

"Nick, don't!" Is hissed by Madison at the same time Alycia whispers, "Don't open it!"

He does anyway, throwing the curtains back as far as he can to give us the widest view of the outside. And at the door…

A dog. A large, brown and black German Shepherd. I recognize him from the numerous walks one of the neighbors takes him on. He's panting against the glass and on his hind legs, scraping at the glass with long claws. He's so tall standing that he can reach the door handles.

"It's just a dog." Nick clarifies, "Just a dog. It's okay."

He pulls at the door and the German Shepherd trots inside happily. The dog pants loudly, mouth open and tongue hanging out. His slobber drops to the ground in little water droplets as Nick sits down beside him to give him a couple pets.

"Hey, _hey_." Nick starts soothingly, and maneuvers around the dogs head to look at one of his front legs. More specifically, what was in the dogs' _fur_ on his leg. It covers almost the whole leg and there's a decent patch of it on his side.

"What is that?" Madison wonders aloud, and trains the flashlight on his side. _Blood?_

"Is he- is he hurt?" Alycia asks. I make my way over ( _yay, dog_!) and drop to my knees to examine the mess of fur and _whatever_ it is on the dogs' side. Wordlessly, I bring my hand to the Shepherds side and give him light pats. It's still wet, but I can't feel any scrapes or scratches underneath.

"I don't think it's his blood." I say. My eyes go past his back and to Nick's. I can't even explain how wide they are. _Did he get into a fight?_

The dog starts to whimper in his spot before sprinting past everyone and through the hall. He starts to bark at the front door vehemently, large paws scraping at the ground as he goes into a defensive crouch.

Nick flies past all of us and goes to the window. His fingers pull at the blinds so he can see the street, and he frowns. He doesn't enjoy what he sees.

"Okay, the Trans have a gun." He thinks aloud, pulling away from the window. He starts going to the back door. "Shotgun. I tried to steal it once."

"Girls, stay close." Madison orders us. She follows Nick outside, and even though I just want to hide, I force myself to follow them. "Don't stop."

We don't close the door behind us, and the dog's barks can be heard as clearly outside as it is inside. My heart hurts to hear him so distressed, but I try to keep my mind clear as we begin to climb onto a pile of rubble in the backyard.

The fence between the Clarke's backyard and the Trans' backyard is decently tall, maybe seven feet. Not even Nick could climb it without the aid of the cleverly placed trash cans and bags to step on. He goes first over the top, and then Madison, then Alycia, then me. The drop to the ground isn't so bad on the other side, considering there's a pile there, too, but I still grab ahold of something as I plop down. That something happens to be Alycia's shoulder.

"Sorry!" I whisper to her. She winces as I let go of it. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's only my shoulder. I can order a new one online." She teases. Her hand goes to rub at it soothingly. _Oopsies_.

I look ahead of us and I'm both astounded and _very confused_ by what I see. _What is this? A maze?_

I voice the question out loud, and Madison answers. "Kind of. The Trans really like their wind chimes, so they made this to set 'em up everywhere. Nick and Alycia used to play here all the time as kids."

"Got lost a couple times." Alycia adds.

I nod at the explanation. "Okay. Where do we go next?"

"Follow me." Nick takes the lead, and the rest of us trail behind quickly. I can still hear the dog barking inside the house as we pass through the wind-chime-maze-thing, coupled with the light singing of the chimes. Once we make it inside the house, though, everything's quiet. _Eerily quiet._

Since the back door is unlocked, we assume that at least one person in the family is inside the house. Madison calls out for them. "Susan? Patrick?" My eyes search through the darkness for any movement. I find none.

No response. "They're not here." Nick notes.

"Okay." Madison says. As we all go deeper into the house, the lights flicker on, bright as day. We're in their kitchen.

"Susan?" Madison asks to the silence. _Nothing_.

Nick opens the door to the hallway and takes a left. Madison follows after, telling Alycia and I to stay put. We both give curt nods, and she follows after her son.

Alycia goes over to the hallway entrance, gliding over to the left to look over some family photos in a collage.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" She muses aloud. I trail behind her softly, gazing over the pictures.

"They didn't have any children?" I murmur.

"No. Mrs. Tran's infertile." Alycia answers as we go down the hall. Her arms go around herself, hugging her middle loosely. "She used to babysit me and Nick as kids."

"Yeah?" I offer. "Did she like you two?"

"I think so." Alycia answers. The lights flicker again, and we're swamped in darkness once more. _Dammit_. "But we were always a handful, even as toddlers."

"Of course. It's in the Clarke blood." I lightly tease.

She softly chuckles. "Yeah. But I think they're happy, even without kids. Just the two of them; a little family."

"That's good, then." I offer. "Family doesn't always mean kids. It's whatever you want it to be." Once we reach the end of the hallway, we meander through an open room with couches on each wall.

"Nick got sick, when we were in middle school." Alycia starts. She points to a small stain on the carpet with her flashlight. "Mom and dad were busy, so Mrs. Tran picked us up at the end of the day. He puked here."

I nod, listening to the story. "Mom was mad that he didn't go to the nurse during class, but he said that they were always busy. He didn't want to bother them because he didn't think either of them would leave work for him."

She sighs and moves away from the spot, choosing to lean against the window instead. "Fast forward seven years and his whole world's changed." She grumbles.

I give a sympathetic wince in her direction. "Sorry, love." I say quietly.

She just huffs in response. I go over to her and the window, hopefully offering some form of silent comfort.

The comfort is short-lived as we both peer through the window and witness Mr. Dawson—or what _used_ to be Mr. Dawson—enter the Clarke house through the open back door. _No!_ The dog inside starts to bark in response.

 _Please don't hurt the dog!_ I scream internally. _No, no!_

"Mom!" Alycia calls out. "Mom!"

Seconds later Madison and Nick show up, Nick carrying a large gun case and some small boxes with ammo.

"Mom, Mr. Dawson's inside our house." She tells them.

"What?!" Madison exclaims.

"He just walked in." I explain, my voice hitching a bit in my throat as the words fly. "The door was open and he—well, it was more like a limp, but he's in there and the dog's barking at him-"

Nick drops the boxes of ammo to the ground beside us and pulls the gun outside of its bag. "Here, mom. Mom! Load it."

"Watch out." Madison warns us. "Stand back."

Alycia and I take a few steps back from them as Nick sets the shotgun on the ground and opens the bottom, which I assume is the chamber for the ammo.

"Careful." Madison tells Nick. She sets a shell inside the chamber, fingers shaking as she grabs more and slides them in.

The dog starts barking louder, and I can see him trotting in circles around Mr. Dawson. He starts growling as he takes a few steps backwards and slides behind the curtain, out of our view.

The barks and growls turn into whimpers as Mr. Dawson bends down to the dog, and though I can't see it happening, I can hear the pain as the dog cries out. _He's hurting the dog. He's_ _ **killing**_ _the dog!_

I take a step away from the window as the Shepherd—that _beautiful, innocent_ Shepherd wails out some more. _I can't watch this._

"Mom." Alycia sobs out.

"Shh, it's okay. We'll just stay here." Madison comforts her. They both watch, waiting for more movement inside their dining room.

A hand snakes into mine and squeezes comfortably, offering some form of comfort. Through the soft light, I make out Nick standing beside me, one hand in mine and the other holding the gun by his side. I squeeze back silently, willing the tears pricking my eyes away. _That poor dog. This is awful._

If things couldn't get any worse, Madison hisses out, "No, no, _no_!"

Curious, I lean back to the window and find a truck pulling in to the Clarke driveway. The same truck that picked up Alycia and me from Matt's house earlier. _Travis' truck._

"It's Travis!" Madison pants out. She grabs her mobile phone from her pocket and tries to dial Travis' number, but there's no signal. "No!"

"It may not be him." Nick says. He drops my hand for a flashlight and points the beam out the window.

The truck pulls up at little more in the driveway, adjusting the car slightly in the spot. "It's him." Alycia confirms.

Overcome with fear, Madison grabs the flashlight from Nick's hand and wordlessly runs to the backdoor of the Tran house. The three of us follow after her, picking up our pace to match hers as she flies through the wind-chime maze, all the while screaming out Travis' name.

We pull up at a dead end in the maze, and Madison runs straight into it. "Dammit!" She hisses out in pain, and her hand goes to her face and rubs at it before she turns around and runs through us. "Travis! Travis!"

"Okay, okay, left here." Nick tries to navigate from the back of the group. I'm amazed when Madison follows his instructions. "Right, right! Here, now a left."

Madison continuously shouts out Travis' name, and when we finally make it to the end she's first to hop over the fence.

She stops midway as Nick climbs onto the rubbish pile. "Give me the gun." She hurtles out. He wordlessly hands it to her as she frantically jumps down the other side. A scream fills my ears from inside the Clarke house as the lights flicker back on. _Oh, no_. The sound only makes Madison run faster to her home.

"The shells!" Nick agitatedly asks Alycia. "Where are the shells?" _They're still inside. We ran too fast to remember them._

"Leave it, leave it, let's go." He tells her. His legs swing over the fence and he drops down to the other side. I follow suit, vaguely noticing the shaking in my hands.

My foot slips on the rubble underneath my feet, and I shriek out of fear as I feel myself falling.

"Hey." A warm pair of hands grab at my waist and hold me steadily. My own grasp at his shoulders to help keep me on my feet. "Got it?"

"Yeah," I answer shakily and let go of Nick. "Alycia, you coming?" I glance over my shoulder at the pile and barely catch the flip of her hair as she drops down on the other side.

"Go without me!" She hurls out. "I got the shells! Go!"

"Good enough for me." Nick says, grabbing my hand and hurriedly pulling me along to the back of the Clarke house.

We make it just in time to see Travis holding Mr. Dawson's animated body against the wall, and fear ignites in every nerve of my body. Dawson's skin is ashen pale, his eyes a milky white in the center. He moans out hungrily, his teeth chomping at the air in front of Travis' face. _Oh god, no!_

Madison points the shotgun straight at Mr. Dawson's face and yells at Travis to stay back.

He holds a hand out to her, signaling for her to stop. "No! Put the gun down!"

A man goes to Madison and pulls the gun out of her hands. He's on the older side; the start of a receding hairline atop his head; salt and pepper hair. A goatee covers his jaw, and he wears a simple pair of jeans with a comfortable fuzzy sweatshirt. I've never met him before, but I get the instant thought: _Dangerous. Effective, but a wildcard._

"Move." He orders Madison, cocking the gun easily and setting it to Mr. Dawson's face. He pulls the trigger the second Travis pulls away.

Now, for _any_ person, a shot from that close would have _had_ to kill them. It goes against Mr. Dawson's face, ripping off its features. It _had to have killed him_.

But seconds later, his body shuffles to the left, and _holy shit, he's still alive! How is that possible?_

I gaze in horror as I look at the remnants of his face. It's like the world is moving in slow motion as I note that there's no nose, no eyeballs, no more mouth and chiseled jaw. There's a crater where his features used to be. _And he's still fucking moving_.

I can't believe it. I just can't. This world _can't_ do something so cruel to a man and _still_ keep him moving. My breath catches in my throat like I can't breathe properly. My hands cover my face and my eyes as I push myself against Nick's side. I look up at him; he's speechless, too. Silently he wraps his arms around me and pulls my face against his chest, as if to shield me from the remains of Mr. Dawson. I take quick comfort in the movement, but I need to watch. _I need to see what happens_.

So I turn my head out and look as the man walks up to Mr. Dawson, putting the chamber right against the crater of blood and muscle, and fires straight into it. I scream, and I vaguely hear others screaming too, as the body drops to the ground. The top half of his skull is missing. _It's gone._ _ **Shot off.**_

"Oh, my god." I groan into Nick's chest. His arms are rigid against my form. Not even he can comprehend what just happened.

"C'mon," he gently pulls me closer to the door, his voice quiet and soothing in my ear.

"No." I pull away from him adamantly. "Nope."

I amble away from him and to patch of grass, away from everyone, and vomit loudly into the green.

The scene replays in my head; the cratered face, the visible muscles and dark red blood oozing... _The top half of his skull being shot off..._

I retch again. I can't stop, even as someone pulls up beside me. I turn my head slightly, dry heaving, to get a better look.

 _Oh, he's puking too._

Yet again, another new face. As he bends down to barf in the grass, I take quick note of the pale bronze skin, long black hair, and dark brown eyes before he bends down to empty his stomach again.

I pant heavily as I wipe the side of my mouth with the back of my hand. When he's done, he does the same.

"Who're you?" He hiccups.

"Tina." I answer, my voice shaky. "You?"

"Chris." He manages before another wave of bile finds its way out. I turn away from him (and the growing stench,) as another sound fills my ears. Screaming.

" _HELP_!" Alycia screeches out. "AGH, HELP!"

I run over to the pile of rubbish at the same time as Chris. She flings a leg over the fence to straddle it, whining out in fear as something chases her on the other side. "Get off of me!" She screams out to the other side. _Another infected?_

"Alycia! Alycia, grab my hand!" Chris runs over to her and holds out his hand for her to take, but she's too preoccupied with swatting at whatever's on the other side of the fence. He struggles to grab a hold of her as she squirms, and I can only imagine what's happening on the other side of the wood. Chris grabs a light hold of her ankle as she thrashes around, and tugs on it to get her on our side. "Alycia! C'mon, take my hand!"

When he has a good enough grip Chris pulls at her; bad move. Her body flies off the fence and onto the ground. Or, rather, right on top of Chris.

Alycia screams out and wriggles out of his grasp, elbowing him in the face. "Let go of me!" _Whatever spooked her must have spooked her_ _ **bad**_ _._ I drop to my knees and pull Alycia away from Chris, and I take a look at his face. Blood drops from his nose; I can't tell if it's broken or not. _She hit him_ _ **hard**_ _._

Travis and another woman come up to us. _Yet_ _ **another**_ _person I haven't met. Anyone else I should know about?_ She is clearly his mom, fussing as he gets up and asking if he's okay.

"I was trying to _save you_ , Alycia!" Chris snarls at her. A hand goes to his nose and holds it, the blood oozing onto his fingers. The bite in his words ring clear, but Alycia still shakes from fear of whatever's on the other side of the fence.

Travis, his voice quiet and calm, gently tell Chris to calm down. It makes Chris _fume_ to the point where he screams out at his father, "No, dad, _you calm down_!" And he storms off. I think it's a good thing. He needs to take a look at himself, and face the possibility of a broken nose. _Poor thing. He only wanted to help._

"Chris!" His mother calls after him, but he doesn't acknowledge it. He stalks back into the house and out of everyone's eyesight.

A faint snarling fills my ears, one so familiar to what I'd heard earlier. What Mr. Dawson made before he was brutally shot and killed in front of my eyes. _Another one._

A small, fragile hand pulls through a space in between withered pieces of wood, and a face comes into view. She's Asian, on the older side, with short strands of black hair curving inward to her chin. Dried blood covers the bottom half of her jaw, some smeared above her lips. Her eyes, close-set and thin, are milky white. All characteristics of an infected person.

"What's wrong with Su-Su?" Alycia asks Madison, scared. Susan growls at Alycia, teeth grinding harshly onto nothing. I shiver at the noise.

"Susan?" Madison asks. She takes a few cautious steps to the fence, and Susan begins to lightly growl at her. Her outstretched hand tightens into a fist, as if grabbing something in the air. Madison breathes out heavily. "Oh my god, Susan!"

"She's sick." Chris' mother says.

"Is she bitten?" Travis asks. _Is that how it spreads? Bites?_

"I can't tell." Madison answers, sounding defeated.

"She's not sick." Nick says. His arms are crossed against his chest, though his tone is anything but defensive. He says it like it's the easiest information in the world. "She's dead."

The realization comes slowly to Alycia, and how Matt was so sick earlier. The puzzle pieces for together in her mind, and her voice is quiet when she starts.

"But, that's... That's not Matt."

It's defensive at first. She can't believe it. "He, he's not like that." A whimper. Alycia grows warier by the second. "He's not like that! Mom, he's not like that!" By the end, she's screaming and sobbing. "That's not him!" She points to Susan, tears in her eyes. "That's _not him_! That's not Matt!"

Her mother pulls her in close, hugging her tightly. The shift in Alycia's stance pulls her face away from the fence. _Away from the truth._

"Why would you say that?" Travis asks Nick, close so Alycia doesn't have to hear.

"Because it's the truth." He answers simply.

It may be the truth, but the truth _fucking sucks._


	5. Chapter 5: Little Green Friends

_A/N: Hello hello! Sorry for being MIA for so long. I have no excuses, my life gets busy sometimes. But good news, we're already practically done with season one. That didn't take long! We have maybe a chapter or two before we get to the start of season two. But that brings me to a new topic._

 _I had said earlier on, there's probably going to be some smut in here. After starting this, I realize: There is DEFINITELY going to be smut in here. And... probably a lot of it. *shrugs* Sorry, I'm dirty. That means that I'm going to up the rating on here from T to M. For some people, they might love that. That may be why some started reading this. For others, they may be uncomfortable with it. If you're from the latter group, I would honestly suggest you stop reading now. It's only going to get worse from here! Ha ha._

 _That's all! On with the story._

 _ **UPDATE** **4/26/2019:** Aww, remember the time I realized I would make characters naughty? Good times._

 _I should finish up the edited chapters in the next couple of days (a week at the most,) then on with the new chapters! (For those who were hoping to get a new chapter, sorry, but the state of this was really bugging me. I couldn't move forward with Welcome to the New World until I felt it was in a good place. It's getting there now.)_

* * *

I learn their names quickly. Liza, Chris' mother. Griselda, the nice Spanish lady with the hurt foot. Daniel, her husband. Ophelia, their daughter. They need a place to stay for the night, and the rest of us plan to leave for the desert in the morning. Griselda gets Alycia's bed for the night so she can rest. Alycia gets to sleep in an old, dingy blow-up mattress on the floor in the living room. It's big enough for two, so I get the honor of sleeping by her side.

The room is completely dark and quiet, the only loud sound being Nick's soft snores from the couch. _Because he gets the couch. Bastard._ The grandfather clock chimes softly, and I unconsciously match my breathing to the ticks of the seconds.

The third sound I hear, however, is silent hiccups. The kind that accompany tears. I twist under the old yellowed blanket (which is so scratchy that I hope we burn it in the morning,) and look over to Alycia's back.

"'Lych?" I whisper quietly.

No response. I sit up and lean over her back to get a good look at her face. Twin trails of tears stream down her smooth skin, making a small puddle in her pillow's fabric. _Matt._

"Oh, honey." I softly whisper. My hand goes to her shoulder and I rub small circles to the joint. "I'm so sorry."

Her hiccups get louder as she turns to face me. "He doesn't deserve that!" Her arms grasp at my sides and hold me close, sobbing into my tee shirt. "He's such a good person! Matt never did anything wrong. Why," she stops from a moment, running a palm over her eyes, "why him?"

"No one deserves that." I whisper into her hair. My hands hold her back tightly as I fall back down onto the mattress. We adjust ourselves so she can properly cry into my shirt, and I hold her close and let my hands stroke soothingly up and down her back. "Not him, not Susan, not anyone. I know it sucks right now, but it'll get better."

"No it won't." She says adamantly. Her breathing starts to even out, her eyes slowly coming to a stop in her water works.

"It will." I press, believing wholly in the statement. "It has to."

"It has to." Alycia repeats, her voice clearer. Her arms don't move from my figure, only adjusting so she can be more comfortable. My hand goes to her hair, smoothing down the side of it. "You seem so sure."

"I have to be." I say simply. I sigh, tired. "I'm scared of what's out there if I don't."

"I'm scared, too."

* * *

We sleep, snuggled together, through the rest of the night. And by the time we get up, we quickly take showers, pack clothes, and non-perishable food and water to the back of Madison's car and Travis' truck. The two told me that we'd stop by my apartment so I can pick up some things and more food before heading out to the desert.

The Salazar's stay at the house while we pack. They say Daniel's cousin will come pick them up in a few hours, or something along those lines. Either way, we leave and they stay.

"Ready to go?" I hear someone say. I mentally shake my thoughts away and turn to the voice, zipping up the last bag of canned vegetables.

"Yeah, Travis. Which car am I hopping into?" I ask. I run my fingers through my hair in hopes to slow my nerves. _I've had quite an eventful few days._

"You'll be with Maddy and the kids in her car." I nod at the info. He stalks over to me and grabs the bag, but doesn't lift it up just yet. "Hey, you were with Alycia last night. She okay?"

I let out a heavy puff of air, my shoulders sagging with the movement. "I… I don't know, Travis. She's heartbroken about Matt and Susan; that much I know for sure."

"Are _you_ okay?" He asks tentatively. I look up at him, a furrow in my brow. "Maddy told me about… the phone call yesterday." He explains slowly, comfortingly. "I want to make sure you're alright."

A rush of sadness goes through me, and I will myself not to cry. "I'm... fine." I say lamely.

He raises an eyebrow. "Right."

"What do you want me so say?" I reply hotly. "That I'm heartbroken and crying twenty-four seven and that I can't believe that they're-" I choke back the word. I can't say it. _If I say it then it becomes true._

"That's not what I _want_ to hear, but it's more believable, Tina." He says softly. A hand goes to my shoulder and he soothingly pats at it. "It's awful, and I'm so sorry for your loss."

"I don't know if they're dead." I disagree. "They could be fine."

"Well, no matter what happens with them, just know that we're here for you." Travis says earnestly. His arms go around me and he gives me a tight squeeze before letting me go. Gently he pushes me back and he bends down to my level. "All of us. You always have a place here. We won't let you down." _Awe, such a mush._

It brings an actual smile to my face. "Thank you, Travis. Honestly."

"Anytime." He smiles back. "Now," he grabs the bag of cans and shoves it into my hands, "put these in the back of Maddy's car, please?"

"Of course." I bow slightly, taking the bag and heading outside.

In a few seconds, I toss the bag into the back of the car and hop into the backseat with Nick. My eyes give him a quick once-over. He's shaking in place as he looks out the window, but I assume it's just a normal thing when going through detox. He still hasn't changed out of the old striped shirt and beige jacket. _He should. It's really not his style._

"C'mon, Alycia, let's go!" Travis calls out for her at the front door. Madison beeps the horn at Alycia, and finally she gets out of the house. "We're leaving!"

"I heard you." She responds, shoving an earbud in. "I had to pee."

He opens the passenger door for her and she hops in, but not before hearing the roaring sound of helicopter blades above us. She checks the sky and sure enough, there are at least a dozen flying above us. _Damn._

As the car begins a slow roll out the driveway, I think, _this is the last time I'll ever see this house. Hell, this'll be the last time I ever visit my_ _ **apartment**_ _, maybe even Los Angeles._ It puts the whole predicament into perspective. We're losing our whole lives for this bloody virus. _We better find a cure fast._

I peer quietly out the window as we follow Travis' truck down the street, turning a corner and getting to a small intersection with a red light. The sound of the helicopter blades whir in my ears. _Jesus_ , I think. _There are so many. It's like all of National Guard decided to fly over us._

"Shit." Madison mutters under her breath. As Travis drives forward through a set of lights, Madison yells out her window. "Patrick! Hey, Patrick, wait!"

I follow her line of sight and quickly take in the old Asian man pulling out of his parked car. With a smile on his face, he pulls out a briefcase from the passenger seat and starts a slow walk to his front door. _Shit, Susan's husband_.

In a split-second decision, she takes the turn back to her street and abandons Travis' truck. I can hear Patrick's voice cheerfully calling out for Susan as he treks down to the backyard. _Where Susan is. Shit!_

With a harsh jerk, Madison parks the car on the street. Her shaky hands unbuckle her seatbelt. She shouts over her shoulder at the three of us, "Stay in the car!" before shoving the car door open and running to follow her friendly neighbor.

Alycia, Nick, and I side-eye each other before we all jump out of the seats, following Madison's retreating form. She screams out to Patrick, telling him to stay away from what used to be Susan. He doesn't listen. As Susan limps over to him, he holds out his arms to give her a hug, concern over his face at the state of his wife.

- _THWICK!_

It barely registers in my mind that Travis and his family are behind me, catching up to us. All my mind focuses on is the slow drop that Susan's body takes, and the new hole in the middle of her forehead. _Dead. She's dead._ The spike of adrenaline rushes through my veins as my mind catches up. _It was a gunshot._

 _A gunshot killed what was left of Susan._

Who the hell has a gun?!

Patrick cries out, dropping to his knees to grasp at his dead wife's body. My heart twinges in pain as the immense sadness washes over his face. Alycia's hands go to cover her mouth in shock.

 _Is that what I'm in? Shock?_

It's not as bad as yesterday, when I saw what can only be described as crater face. No, that was much worse than this. At least Susan's death was quick and clean. Mr. Dawson suffered.

Then the flood of green spills in behind the house. Men decked in army camouflage. Every single one of them has a gas mask, rifle in hand, and goggles covering their face. _What, do they think the infection is airborne?_ They're wrong about that, I'm already sure.

I feel strong hands grab at my elbows, one soldier on each. They're harsh as they pull me backwards with the rest of the group. When they let me go, I'm barely steady on my feet but I don't care. The shock still coursing through my veins takes precedence over whatever I'm feeling. The gunshot still echoes in my head.

Slowly, I take in my surroundings. The first thing I notice is the intense wave of green men and women throughout the whole street. Dozens, maybe even a hundred, soldiers scattered about. There are large military vehicles, all a distinct shade of beige blocking the road. If we want to stick to the plan of going to the desert, I doubt they'd allow it. As a soldier walks past, no gas mask on his face, I see harsh lines etched into his pale wrinkled face. Years of frowning, I assume, as that's what he's sporting as he looks over me and the rest of the group. With a small glare, he turns and tells one of the lady officers to, "put me on the list." _Whatever that list is. I'm not sure I want to be on it.  
_

Our little group disperses, and one of the officer's heads up to Travis and Madison, most likely to, "put them on the list," too. A petite blonde dressed in camouflage green strides up to me, clipboard in hand. Her hair is tightly wound up in a bun, showing off her cold demeanor. "What's your name?"

"Uh," I stammer, "Cristina Waters. I go by Tina."

Her pen digs into her paper harshly as she writes my name. "From across the pond, I see."

 _Ha ha, very funny._ "I moved here with my mum and dad a few years ago."

"And where's mom and dad?" She looks up from her paper, her eyes glazing over to me.

"They, uh," my heart drops but I let out, "they passed."

"Sorry to hear that." _No, you aren't._ "Who are you living with, then? You by yourself?"

"I'll be living with Travis Manawa and Madison Clarke." I respond. "Though my personal items are still at my apartment."

"I see." She scribbles onto her clipboard one last time before harshly clicking the pen closed. "This means that you will be living with them from here on out. Go to their house. Wait inside until we give the okay for you to come out. We find you; you don't find us. Got it?"

I blink at her sudden authoritative tone, but nod yes and quickly hustle to the house.

Alycia's stands on the porch, her arms crossed. "You seem peachy." I say.

"Just... Concerned." She answers, sounding distracted. Her eyes focus on her mom by a couple of the army men, seemingly chatting away. By the frown on her face, it's not a good conversation.

"Why?" I raise an eyebrow.

"What, you think they're the cavalry? They're just gonna… swoop in and save us from whatever the hell this is?"

I shrug. "They'll try."

She huffs in disagreement, looking out to the road. "You have more faith in them than I do."

* * *

It's been nine days since the power's gone out. Since the men dressed in green showed up and have deemed our streets a, "safe zone."

We all live in the Clarke household, though it's definitely getting cluttered with the ten of us. The Clarkes, the Manawas, the Salazars, and then me, all under one roof.

I don't remember what sleeping in a real bed feels like. With Griselda injured, she and Daniel get Alycia's bed and Ophelia gets a sleeping bag on the floor. Chris and Liza get to sleep in Nick's old room, and Alycia and I get the blow-up mattress in the living room while Nick gets the couch. _My back. My poor, poor back._

Every other morning we get supplies from our friends in green, and thankfully today is supply day. I'm hoping we get more shampoo and conditioner. We're running out fast.

I'm in the downstairs bathroom, just barely awake and too lazy to swing the door fully shut behind me. My hands lightly grip the edge of the sink as I sigh loudly, trying to wake my brain up. I twist the knob of the faucet and fill my hands with a generous amount of water. When I splash the cool liquid on my face I immediately gasp, regretting the decision.

"Fuck!" I grumble. _Cold. Too cold_. I jerk the knob shut and grab a hand towel to dab at my face. _It's not like the make-up commercials. I don't feel, "refreshed." I feel cold, dammit!_

As I wipe the water off my chin my eyes gleam over to the mirror. My deep red hair is dulled and has almost lost its shine. The bleach blonde underneath the color is starting to show; _great_. My brown roots are just beginning to peak, which I'd expected in the last week or so. Mentally I sigh. I haven't been to the hairdresser in a few weeks to get it touched up. And now, I think hair dye is last on our army buddies' list of things to grab.

 _Maybe Daniel will help me out,_ I think with an inward chuckle.

My hand parts through my locks, finding more brown streaks underneath the layers. _Or maybe it's time to let it grow back._

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom swings open fully, revealing Nick. _Wait, a bare-chested Nick._

"Shit, sorry! I didn't realize there was anyone in here." He quickly apologizes. I shrug it off and set the hand towel back on its small hanger.

"No big deal." I respond. Then I point to his chest. "What, got a photo shoot?" I add a wiggle of my eyebrows for effect.

He rolls his eyes, but a smile forms nonetheless as he treks further into the room. "Ha ha, very funny. If you must know, I was going to enjoy a morning swim. Just gotta brush my teeth."

I let out an, "ah," of understanding and move a step away from the sink, offering him space. I grab my own toothbrush and squirt some toothpaste before handing him the bottle. He mutters out a quick thanks before grabbing his own toothbrush and repeating my actions.

When we're both done, I quickly clean my cheeks with a towel and head for the door. "Enjoy your swim." I say over my shoulder.

"You can come too, y'know." Nick offers.

I stop in front of the door, turning to look back at him before teasingly crossing my shoulders. "And what? Reenact the epic Water Gun War of 2008?"

"I kicked your ass then, and I'd do it now."

I scrunch my nose playfully. "I don't think it exactly counts as, "kicking my ass," when you broke three guns _in a row_. More like sabotage."

"There weren't any rules against it, were there?" He quirks an eyebrow up, fighting back a smile.

"Didn't think there'd have to be one, but that's true." I nod. "And while I appreciate the offer, I'm very much amphibian. I like hot over cold. That water's probably _freezing_ right now."

Nick shrugs as he looks over to me, his signature smirk blessing his face. "Offer still stands. Come keep me company, at least? I promise there's no water guns this time."

I suppress a smile. "We'll see. I'm grabbing rations today with Alycia and Ophelia, but maybe after."

"Sounds good. Tell our friends in green I say hello." The end of his sentence drips with sarcasm as I turn and head out the door.

"Can do!" I wave over my shoulder as I head into the kitchen where Ophelia already stands. Her back is rigid and straight as her hands wring around a dark jacket, fidgeting in place. _Why?_

Then Alycia, Madison, and Travis come into view. _And it looks like they pissed off Alycia. Oh dear._

My playful air is cut down as I hear her voice, loud and _angry_ at the two adults.

" _Just stop_. Stop this domestic bickering like it's normal!" Alycia shakes in place, furious. "Like your _normal_ people in a _normal_ kitchen. It's not normal. Stop it. Stop _acting_ like it is."

Madison and Travis's stances drop a bit, heavy. Their eyes look over me and Ophelia, and Alycia's follow.

 _Awkward_.

"… Ready to go?" Ophelia breaks the silence tentatively.

" _Please_." Alycia answers, her footsteps heavy as she walks over. The three of us leave the kitchen and head out the front door, walking to the front gate of our, "perimeter."

"What was that about?" I ask cautiously.

"I'm just tired of people being fake." She answers heatedly. "Our lives aren't normal anymore. They keep acting like nothing's wrong when it is. _This_ ," she gestures to the crowd gathering around the supply truck, "isn't normal. And we shouldn't be playing it off."

"I see." I say, but before I get a chance to add anything else our little green friends pop onto the truck.

The commanding officer hops onto the back of a truck, letter in hand. He bellows out, "Alright, listen here folks! As commanding officer of this detachment, I am proud to announce that we are infect-free for a six-mile radius around this perimeter! _We_ are on the offensive. The tide has most definitely turned."

Some of the residents offer half-hearted claps at the speech. I give two lazy ones. _No need to inflate his ego._ We haven't seen any infected for a few days; it's not news.

"Alright, command asked that I read from the following," he waves the paper in his hands before listing off, "Be advised: the DZ remains off-limits while hazmat teams dispose of any bio-hazardous material."

"What bio-hazardous material?!" Some woman from the crowd calls out.

"Hey," the commanding officer points down to her angrily, "I'm supposed to read this, you're supposed to listen, okay?"

Murmurs quietly begin in the crowd, the general populous becoming uncomfortable and angry at the officers words.

"When will you get the phones up?" Another citizen asks.

The officer ignores the question and goes back to the paper. "Anyone attempting to compromise or circumvent the perimeter of this camp will be detained."

"Are we being relocated?" An older gentleman asks.

The officer scoffs. "Sir, this is a secure position, so no, you're gonna stay put."

He looks back down to the paper. "Curfew will remain in effect until further notice. The new health screening policy will continue. Sanitation, water treatment, and other services will return as we approach total containment."

Ophelia steps up, raising her voice. "Sir, we need _medicine_. What about that?"

"We are _working_ on that!" He huffs out at her before turning back to his paper. "So keep boiling that water. You will also find several iodine tablets in your weekly rations."

"What about the people outside the fence?" A man to our right asks. His voice is quiet, but the firm look on his face shows determination to get an answer. "What did you do about them?"

The crowd agrees with the citizen, many of them shouting out, "yeah!" in encouragement. Some even begin chanting, "Where! Where!"

 _Oh, little militia, you are_ _ **not**_ _keeping this crowd happy._

"FOLKS!" The officer shouts he slams the paper into a trunk on the back of the truck, obviously angry. "Listen up! _You_ are in one of twelve safe zones south of the San Gabriel's, okay? So you guys are the lucky ones! You guys! You get—you get to stay in your homes, ride this thing out, all right? So relax; count your blessings. Be nice! So I don't have to shoot ya."

I can't tell if he's joking on that last bit. I hope so. But the sentence makes my stomach churn uncomfortably. _What if he wasn't? Who would stop him?_

"Can I have your name, miss?" One of the army men asks me. _Ah, yes, supply time!_

"Cristina Waters." I answer smoothly. He checks off my name on his list, hands me a box of supplies, and then shouts out, "Next!" over my shoulder to dismiss me.

I pull away from the front crowd and linger, waiting for Alycia and Ophelia as they get their own boxes, though it seems like it may take some time. One of the guards gives Ophelia a sky smirk as he jogs down her name, and she gives a shy smile in return. _Oh, good lord._ Alycia catches up and waits beside me, watching the interaction between Ophelia and the soldier with a smirk.

"—Tina? Is that you?"

The question comes from behind me. I know that voice all too well. My eyes widen, like a deer in headlights.

"… Is that…" Alycia asks, twisting her head to look at me.

I shut my eyes in horror, murmuring, "Oh, dear lord."

"It IS you! Hey!" A hand goes to my shoulder, and I turn to look at its owner.

I force a tight smile as my eyes reach blue ones. " _Rhea_! Hey, how've you been?"

"Ohmygod!" She gives me a tight side-hug. "I thought you and your parents woulda jumped ship at the first sign of trouble! Glad to see you're okay."

My heart stings at the mention of my parents, but I nod to her. _Don't want to start anything with Rhea bloody Ardnois at 10 in the morning_. I pull away, taking a semi-generous step towards Alycia. "Glad to see you, too. How's your family?"

"Oh," Rhea waves a hand nonchalantly. "They're fine. Scott's running a temp, but he always gets a cold this time a year."

Scott was her younger brother—about six or seven now. Super young. She loved him with all her heart, which might be her only redeeming quality. "I hope he gets better soon."

"You and me both."

Ophelia strolls over to the three of us, box in hand. "Ready to go?"

I nod eagerly ( _Ophelia has saved the day_!) and jerk my head at her. "Yeah, sorry, Rhea. We have to head back."

Rhea nods in return. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Of course." Then a generous smile spreads across her face. "I'll see you around, then."

"Mmhmm." I pull away from her and Alycia and Ophelia follow behind my lead, my feet taking generous strolls to get far _far_ away from here.

"Who was that?" Ophelia asks. I sigh heavily.

"Rhea Ardnois. Breaker of girl's hearts. I went on a couple dates with her before immediately running in the opposite direction."

"Oh… Ouch."

"Yeah."

Alycia pipes in as we turn onto our street, "And still she thinks you two are friends."

"Well, I'm too nice to tell her to piss off, so…" I trail off, shrugging.

We make it to the house fairly quickly, and I set my package on the kitchen's countertop with a huff.

"Let's see: the Clarke and Manawa package includes," Alycia starts, pulling out items as she goes along, "peas, chicken soup, pork n' beans, water, batteries, a new flashlight, toothpaste, aaand soap!"

"Congrats," I laugh. "Ophelia, you want to go next?"

"Sure." She chuckles as she sets the box on the counter. She opens the top and begins rifling around. "We have a whole bunch of medicine for mama, some gauze wraps, food, water, laundry detergent..." She pulls up something from the bottom. "Clean clothes. Neat."

"That leaves the Waters box for unveiling." Alycia rests her weight against the counter, arms crossed in amusement. "Go on, dazzle us."

"Alright, ladies, the moment you've been waiting for!" My chipper voice exclaims, and I add a jovial flourish and point to the box. "Anyone want to guess? Place your bets! You get it right and the prize is my amazement!"

Ophelia scoffs in amusement at my overly-cheery announcer voice. "Lemme guess..." Her index finger goes to her cheek, tapping it thoughtfully. "Actual comedy?"

"Ouch." I clutch above my heart, wincing. "That one stung." I return to my chipper voice. "But it's still a guess! We'll have to see. Alycia, love, you have a guess?"

"I dunno." She shrugs, then a wicked grin sets. "A vibrator, hopefully. I have batteries, I'll put them to use."

Immediately my cheeks turn red as I burst out laughing. Ophelia and Alycia join in, and in seconds we're doubled over and hugging our sides.

When I'm finally done laughing, I wipe tears from my eyes. "Is that your final guess?"

"Damn right it is!" She cackles. "Now, open the fricken box. I need to know if I'm right."

"Alright, alright." I nod, and pull open the top. "And we have... Cans, waters, a flashlight and some batteries. See, you wouldn't need to give me yours!" I rummage around some more, getting to the end. "And look! Shampoo and conditioner. Awesome."

"Sorry, ladies." I stride to the two of them and pat their shoulder forlornly. "That's the game. No prize won yet. But there's always next time!" I give a dramatic bow as they laugh at my antics. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week."

With a flourish of my wrists, I spin around and strut away from the pair. "Wait," Alycia pulls me back, "Where are you going?"

"The pool." I answer nonchalantly. "Your brother said he was gonna be there, and he invited me."

"Ooooh!" Ophelia calls out, a grin on her face.

"C'mon," I roll my eyes. "It's nothing. We're _friends_."

"Oh, please." Alycia says. "That's not what you wanted to be freshman year."

"This crush goes back to freshman year?!" Ophelia squeals, clapping her hands. "How cute!"

 _Oh. Oh no. Alycia, what have you done?!_

"Oh, bloody hell." I drop my head into my hands, my face already red. "I don't have a crush on him anymore."

"Monopoly." Alycia adds in a singsong tone. I glare at her through my fingers.

"Have you said anything to him?" Ophelia asks.

"No, and you won't either." I warn. "Or I'll cut off your pinky fingers."

She's scrunches her nose in confusion. "Oh...Kay. That's oddly specific."

"But is it an effective threat?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Yes." She giggles. Then she turns me around and pushes me to the door. "Now go! Have fun."

"I have condoms if you need 'em!" Alycia teasingly shouts behind me.

As I stroll out the door I flip her off. "I hate you all!"

"You love us!" She blows me a kiss and winks.

I keep my middle finger up as I pass by the window, and sure enough I hear Alycia cackling again. _How rude. And embarrassing. That was the worst fifty seconds of my life._

The quick trek to the pool is quiet, thank god, but when I reach it there's no one inside. There's a clear rectangle floaty in the middle, abandoned by its user. I frown. _Where'd he go?_

 _Oh, well_ , I think. _At least I can get some sun_. I pull a beige poolside chair from the shade and grass and bring it to a sunny spot. Then I slide it all the way down so it lays flat on the concrete, and I rest on it. I pull my hair away from my face, allowing the sun to beat down on my pale skin. _Ahh_. If there's one thing I love about Los Angeles, it's the weather. It's almost _always_ sunny and bright.

I lose track of time as I relax, but I'm pulled out of my mind when I hear a familiar voice say, "I was hoping you'd show."

I bring my hands to my face, shrouding my eyes as I open them. Nick's shadow looms over me, providing a little bit of comfort from the sun. He's still in just his swimming trunks, though he's almost completely dry.

"It's rude to keep a girl waiting, you know." I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry." He chuckles, taking a few steps backwards. "Let me make it up to you?"

I sit up on the chair, my eyes finally adjusting to the sun. "I never said I would go in, yank. I was just going to keep you company."

"Come on." He lightly begs. "That's the fun part. Don't you want to get wet?" He winks at me teasingly. _Oh, bloody bastard._

I cough at the subtext behind his words, stuttering out, "I think I'll stay on land where it's dry." _And where I won't have a half-naked Nick beside me the whole time._

"Suit yourself." He shrugs. Then he turns, runs, and jumps into the pool. Immediately I screech at the splash, and in seconds I'm drenched.

When he resurfaces I yell out, " _BLOODY HELL,_ NICK, _I'M SOAKED_!" My shirt clings to my skin uncomfortably, and I peel it from over my stomach. "IT'S COLD, TOO! WHY ARE YOU SUCH AN _ASSHOLE_?"

He slicks his hair back, laughing heartily. "Sorry, sweetheart. But hey," he goes to the edge of the pool, leaning over it, "why don't you just take the dive?" He quirks an eyebrow with a smirk. "You just might like it."

The words play in my head, over and over as he pushes away from the edge and backstrokes into the middle.

 _You know what? Fuck it._

Silently I stand up and yank my shirt over my head, feeling relief from the wet fabric. Then I undo the zipper and button of my jeans, shimmying them down my legs. As my heart speed up I think to myself, _c'mon, love. People wear less at the beach!_ And besides, panties and a bra are the _same thing_ as a bikini.

I look over to the pool, finding Nick's gaze over me. And my confidence boosts as I note the blown pupils and slightly slack jaw. I smirk at him. "Like something you see, yank?"

His confident stare is back, along with a smirk as he treads the water. "I don't know. Maybe you should come closer."

 _Well played, Nick. Well played_.

And then I do.

I make a quick run up to the pools edge and jump in, screaming out, "Cannonball!"

The water is _freezing_ when I go completely under, and I gasp. There's water going up my nose, burning my nostrils. The air is pushed out of my lungs. I'm cold, I can't breathe, and I can't open my eyes underwater. _And I love every second._

My feet pound against the bottom of the pool, propelling me upward. When my head breaks the surface, I squeal. " _Cold_!" But I'm laughing as I push my hair out of my face. My hands ball into fists and rub at my eyes, allowing some form of comfort against the chlorine.

"See? Fun." Nick treads over to me, his smirk ever-present.

"Okay, you were right. Congratulations." I stick my tongue out at him. As I begin to swim over to him I add, "What, do you want a prize?"

"I'm always in the mood for free stuff." He chuckles, swimming over to me. "What do I win?"

Internally I grin wickedly, coming up with a plan. "Come here and find out." I make a come-hither motion with my finger.

Nick is surprised by my sudden confidence spike, but that does nothing to assuage him from drifting over to me. _A little closer. Just a teeny bit more…_

Just as he's an arm's length away from me I bring my hand down to the surface of the water, effectively splashing him in the face. I cackle as his hands go to his eyes, groaning. "Not funny, Tina!"

"Not fun when you're on the other side, is it, Nick?" I grin impishly. I splash him again, this time using more force and making a bigger wave. "Karma at its finest!"

"Ohhh, now you're gonna get it!" He warns teasingly. Blindly he stalks over to me, hands outstretched and searching for me. I back away as quick as I can, though I don't get far. I squeal in fright as my back meets the edge of the pool, and I'm trapped as Nick's hands go to either side of me. _Shit_.

"Hi there, yank." I sheepishly start. "About the splashing… I'm sorry?"

"No, you're not." He gives a devilish grin. "Karma at its finest, remember?"

 _Don't you dare._

His hands grip my sides tightly, and picks me up and tosses me back into the middle. I scream as my head goes underwater, quickly shutting my eyes and covering my nose.

As my head breaks the surface I bellow out, "Oh, this is _war_!"


	6. Chapter 6: Bonding

_A/N: Hello again everyone! Quick little update as of **5/2/19** : This chapter is officially updated, and hopefully by the end of next week I should be done with the updates and working towards new chapters for this story. I only have two exams for this semester so I should be able to focus on THIS and this only in a few days!_

* * *

After our little swim, Nick and I decide to part ways. Showers are very much needed after chlorine water (oh, my _poor_ hair,) and I'm not waiting for his slow butt in the Clarke house. I gladly give him that shower solely, and I put my clothes on and shower in my old apartment.

The key is still inside my school backpack, so I grab it first before heading down the street. _Ugh, I hate wet clothes. And chlorine in my eyes._ They're sensitive to the chemical, and still burn a bit when I make it to the complex. _But I don't want to complain. That was a lot of fun._

Room 24 is up one flight of dingy old stairs at the end of a carpeted hallway to the left. The sight of the pale white door makes my heart ache. _If only mum and dad were on the other side of it._

Silently I unlock the door, listening to the _CLICK_ as the internal mechanism opens. I take a tentative step through the threshold. I haven't been here since I grabbed the food and clothes nine days ago.

Everything is set the way I left it. The kitchen is to the left, the living room the right, and branching off in the middle is my old room and my parent's. The tv remote's on the small coffee table by the couch, across from a large flat-screen. Family pictures from vacations are scattered around, smiling faces staring back at me as I frown at the hole forming in my chest. Gingerly, I walk up to a photo and pick it up. It was one of my mum's favorites, so it sits beside her large potted plant, slowly turning brown and brittle from the lack of water and sunlight.

The picture is from the first day we moved here. We're standing outside the apartment complex on a bright day, a U-HAUL truck behind us and boxes in our hands, but we wear the biggest smiles. Even though our entire world was turned upside down, it was the best decision for us.

My thumb lightly traces over mum, who's behind me and to the left. Dad's on the right, an arm around mum's shoulder. Small streaks of grey pepper his hair. _Right, that's when he started going grey. He blamed it on me starting high school, with those, "evil American boys who won't treat me right."_

The picture next to it is me at a year old, dressed up as Smurfette. Mum is holding me in her arms tightly, though her hand brings one of mine to wave at the camera. Her eyes are bright as she stares behind the camera, at dad. Setting it back down gently, I go to the kitchen, my eyes looming over the single picture in the middle. My parents and I are on the couch, and in my hand I hold a tiny little bi flag.

The day I came out to my parents was during sophomore year. I had bought a tiny bisexual flag from a Coming Out Day sale at school. When I got home, I put it on the table while doing homework, waiting for one of them to notice. I finished my homework, put it away, and went back when we had dinner.

Dad was the one who picked it up silently, spinning it between his fingers. "What's this?"

My heart hammered in my chest. "It's a bisexual flag. For… y'know, people who like girls and boys. There was a sale during lunch for a whole bunch of LGBTQ-themed stuff."

"Trying to tell us something, love?" Mum looked over to me. My hands stayed underneath the table, hidden so they could shake in peace.

"Maybe?" I stammered.

They both broke out into wide grins. My dad gave a hearty laugh as he tucked the flag behind my ear. "Do you think this is news?"

"What?" I let out a surprised squeak. My heart calmed down a fraction, and my chest swelled with love.

"A mother always knows, little dove." My mum came over and pressed a loving kiss to my forehead. "And your father isn't too big a dunderhead to realize it."

I give a silent laugh as he scoffed at her. "We support and love you, no later what. Loving girls and boys doesn't make you any less human."

I managed not to let any tears fall as I pulled both close and hugged them tightly. They promised that one of these years we'd go to a pride parade. _We never did._

Before I can choke up, I hurry to my bedroom, pulling some new clothes from my dresser and heading into the bathroom down the hall. I don't dilly-dally like I normally would, though. No one knows when the water gets turned off for the day, so the quicker the better.

When I'm changed into new sneakers, jeans, and a low-cut black shirt, I find myself walking into mum and dad's bedroom. _I haven't been there in a while._

The queen-sized bed is in the middle of the room, sheets folded neatly and pillows puffed at the top. I'm surprised dad made it before leaving that morning. _Normally mum has to complain a total of three times before he grumbles out, "Fine."_

The sleek black dresser is set to the side, next to the closet door. A small cream-colored hamper rests beside the bed, only a few items inside. _Mum must have done the laundry last_. It's all dad's clothes.

Tentatively, I pick up a button down pale green shirt; one of his favorites. I let my weight fall back on the bed as I bring it to my face. Slowly, I take a small whiff of it. It smells like his awful cologne, the one mum loved but I hated so much. I was there when he thought about buying it, and was adamant the right answer was _no_. Now his image floods my head and he's all I see.

Then I lean back on the bed, and I let tears fall freely.

God, I miss them so much. Now they're dead. _The two people I love most in this world are dead and gone and never coming back to me._

I sob loudly, tears trailing down my face like a waterfall. My hand goes to palm the tears away, but it's no use. I'm crying too hard for that to make a difference. I will my brain to think that they might not be dead. That it was just a mugger caught in the act. But even then, they couldn't come back home. No more planes, ships, nothing. _They couldn't ever come home. I'm here, they're there. I'll never know what happens to them._ And if they _are_ alive, they'll spend the rest of their days worrying about me. _What's worse?_

I lie on the bed, clutching my dad's shirt close until my breathing evens out and tears stop falling. Leaving the shirt crumpled on the bed, I head into their attached bathroom and quickly splash water on my face. It lessens the redness of my eyes a fair amount. _Good._

I don't want to leave just yet. Even though it hurts to be in my apartment, it's comforting. _This place is what I truly know_. I don't know everything that goes on in the Clarke household. I don't even know all the _people_ there. But here? I'm put at ease with the familiarity.

Mindlessly, I open the closet door. There's general clutter at the bottom; old, loose papers and school projects of mine that I was really proud of.

There are some shelves set up to the left, important folders stacked on a couple pieces. The top shelf carries a few medical textbooks that mum would study from every now and then. However, _one of these things is not like the other_. The topmost book, skinny in comparison to the others, has the words **EMT TRAINING** written in bolded block lettering. _But… mum wasn't an EMT. She was an oncologist._

Curiosity peaks in me so I grab the book, taking it back to the bed and plopping down. Loosely I thumb through the plastic pages, browsing the words and diagrams every so page. _How fascinating. I wonder why mum bought it._ She seemed happy in cancer research and treatment. _Maybe it was just some light reading? Or maybe she needed a change of pace?_

I get lost in the pages, scanning through different forms of medical training during emergencies. I'm lost so much so that the sun starts to set, and my natural light from the window diminishes. _Ah, shit. They'll be calling curfew soon._

Regretfully, I stand from the bed and drop the book onto the mattress as I stretch my arms out. _Oh, dear_ , I think as I shift my weight from foot to foot. _I was sitting far too long._

I almost leave the room as is, dad's shirt and the medical book on the bed and the closet door open. But I can't. I can't just leave my mess hanging about, not when this is all I have to go by their memory. So I pick up dad's shirt, giving it one last whiff before tossing it back into the hamper, and shut the closet door. I grab the medical book, putting it under my armpit as I smoothen out the wrinkles that I created on the mattress. _There. Much better._

I take the EMT book with me as I leave. It's good knowledge nowadays. _Who knows, I might save someone's life with this!_ With that thought, I pocket my key and wave goodbye to the empty apartment. _Maybe next time, visiting will be easier. Hopefully._

My legs briskly take me down the street to the Clarke household. I don't know how late it is; no one does these days. But curfew is soon enough. I don't want to be caught out when our little green friends call it.

However, something catches my eye. Well, _ear_ , rather.

"Hey, knock it off!"

 _Rhea_?

"No! He stays—he STAYS!"

When I turn the corner, I see a large military vehicle parked outside a small house, along with three of its accompanying men milling about. Rhea's parents hold onto each other tightly in their open doorway, eyes puffy and red. Her mother's head rests against her father's chest, and his hand cradles the back to pull her in tightly.

Rhea, on the other hand, is furiously screaming at a militia man holding onto a small child in the driveway. Tousled blonde hair, gentle brown eyes with a touch of fear in his irises, and red cheeks.

Scott?

"Hey!" I trot up to the group, frowning. "What's going on?"

"Don't worry about it, ma'am." The militia man holds up a hand to me, the other still tightly gripping onto Scott's forearm. "No need to concern yourself."

"Tina, they're taking Scott!" Rhea points accusingly at him. "They're taking my baby brother!"

" _Woah_!" I flip my attention to the soldier. "What the _hell_? Why?"

"Ma'am," the soldier stares at me warningly. "There's no need to concern yourself. Go on home before curfew is called."

I furiously shake my head, taking quick backwards steps to stand beside Rhea in solidarity. "Absolutely bloody not. Not until I know why you think it's okay to take a bloody _seven-year_ -old away from his family!"

"Rhea," Scott whimpers, eyes cast down to the cement driveway in fear. "I don't wanna go."

Rhea drops to her knees to meet his eye level, her blue eyes glistening brightly. I know Rhea enough to know that she does _not_ cry easily; now she's forcing herself to hold back tears. She brings her hands out to cradle his face, but the militia man jerks Scott out of reach.

"I know, booger, I know. They can't take you." She looks up to me desperately, bottom lip trembling. "Cristina, they _can't_ take him. They can'—they _can't_!"

The militia holding onto Scott walks away to the military-grade vehicle, dragging Scott behind him at a pace too fast for the child. Scott whimpers in protest, turning back to look at his family. Vaguely I hear his mom behind us, brokenly sobbing into her husband's shirt. Rhea beside me takes in a heavy breath, tears gently falling onto the pavement below. My hand goes to rest on her shoulder, giving silent support; it's the only thing I _can_ do. I stare hard at the militia man's back, imaging what it would feel like to knock him out with the EMT book.

Before I can stomp up to the vehicle and belt out a dozen nasty curse words, another soldier comes up to me and Rhea, looking bored. _And almost exactly the same as the other one. What, do these guys get made in a factory?_ "The only reason he's coming with us tonight is because he has a fever 103.5. We need to keep the public safe and contain any possible outbreaks."

My eyes glare up to reach his, and unconsciously I scrunch my nose in anger. "Then contain it, and _bring him back_. He has a cold, not malaria."

"We're just taking any necessary precautions."

 _Like taking a seven-year-old away from his family._ My hand twitches at my side, as if it's ready to fling up and smack him in the face, but I take a breath to keep my cool.

"I'm sure. Just make sure he comes back home."

* * *

My stomach flips about a dozen times as I stroll back to the Clarke house, worry settling into a pit at the bottom. The curfew horns blare just as I reach the front steps of the house, and internally I raise a middle finger at the militia. _Fuck you, wankers_.

When I open the front door I'm immediately greeted with cheers. I'm taken aback, but give a, "Hi, everyone!" with a chuckle. "Did you miss me?"

"Oh, loads." Alycia greets from the left side of the couch. Beside her sits Nick on the other edge, and Chris lounges on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. Ophelia takes the rocking chair by the window.

"Is that what we're telling her?" Ophelia adds teasingly.

"What's the truth?" I ask jokingly.

"Oh, I was gonna say we were talking shit."

"Want me to leave?" I point back to the door with my thumb. "You guys can continue your anti-Tina talk, if you want. Just leave food and water outside the door. I'm pretty self-sufficient."

My addition gets a few chuckles as they beckon me over. I haphazardly shove the EMT book into my backpack on a hanger before going to the couch. "Any dinner?"

"You missed it." Alycia tells me. "They already cut the power off so you can't nuke anything."

"Dammit. Nooo." I fake cry into her shoulder, dramatically gripping her arms. "What cruel, cruel fate is this?"

"There, there," she pats my side in fake uncaringness, "we have apple juice and stale Doritos. You can have that."

"Serves you right." Nick shoves at my leg. "Why were you out so late?"

"I was busy planning world domination, if you must know." I answer hotly, sticking my tongue out at him. "I didn't realize that it takes so long to organize."

"Papa and mama are gonna call me for bed soon." Ophelia says absentmindedly, gazing out the window. She brings her legs up into the chair, her hands going around her knees as they bend underneath her. "I don't want to go just yet. I like talking with you guys."

"Same here." Chris replies, and he turns to Alycia and Nick. "It's more… tolerable than I expected." Nick cracks a smirk while Alycia smiles down to him. _Awe, that was almost a compliment. I'm glad they're getting along._

"How about this?" Alycia leans forward in her seat. "We play a game or something before going to bed?"

"What kind of game?" I ask.

"I don't know. Twenty questions, truth or dare, never have I ever?"

"I could go for a game of never have I ever." Nick agrees.

I nod. "Sounds fun. Why not?"

"That's a drinking game, though." Chris raises an eyebrow. _Like we couldn't find any booze in this house. I know Madison enjoys a drink or two after a rough week at school._

Alycia shrugs. "We have the apple juice."

In a few minutes, we're all handed a small, fat glass of the sweet amber liquid. I shimmy in my seat, sitting upright as I swirl the juice around in the cup.

"Alright, who wants to go first?" Alycia asks out to the group.

I shrug. "I'll do it. Never have I ever..." I look around the room. My eyes glaze over the DVD collection, landing on Lilo and Stitch. A lightbulb goes off. "Been to Disney?"

Nick and Alycia both bring their glasses to their lips, taking quick sips. _Ha ha! Suckers._

"Alright, me next." Nick claims. "Never have I ever _wanted_ to go to Disney."

There's a collective groan in the room at his copycat question, but he grins in response. "I'm not taking it back." I take a small sip, along with Chris and Ophelia.

"Alright, me next." Alycia waves her hand in the air. "Okay, never have I ever lived outside the United States."

"Rude." I blow a raspberry at her and begrudgingly take a sip. Ophelia goes to take one, too.

"Where are you from?" I ask.

"El Salvador. What about you?"

"Suffolk."

"I wanna go next." Chris shimmies on the ground. "Just to get Alycia back, never have I ever lived in LA for more than five years."

She glares down to him, but takes a sip with Nick. I lean forward in my spot to give Chris a well-deserved high five. "You're my new best friend, Chris!" He grins to me as I sit back down.

"Okay, okay, me next." Ophelia straightens her back, an evil grin on her face. _Oh no_. "Never have I ever… Smoked weed."

My glass stays firmly in my hand. _I've never been that adventurous_. Chris keeps his down, too.

Unsurprisingly, Nick takes a sip. But to my left, Alycia takes one too.

My jaw nearly drops. " _Alycia!_ "

She gives a sheepish grin. "Matt had some at his parties. I would take a puff or two."

"I can't believe it." I shake my head at her. "Saint Alycia, my ass."

"Okay, that was everyone. You want to start us off again?" Alycia bumps her shoulder against mine. I nod eagerly.

"Of course. Never have I ever had alcohol."

Nick, Alycia, and Ophelia take sips. _Oh, Ophelia? Not so saint-like, either, I see._

"Alright, me next." Chris calls. "Never have I ever had sex."

 _Ah_ , I snicker internally. _A classic, "Never Have I Ever," question. Poor baby Chris._ Beside me, Nick and Alycia take sips. Ophelia does, too. But I have to ask playfully, "Wait, opposite sex or same sex?"

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Would that change your answer?"

I give a smirk. "Very much so."

"Alright," he starts tentatively, "with the opposite sex."

I keep my glass firmly in my hand, grinning. "No dice."

"Wait," his eyes widen. "You've had sex with _a girl_?!"

Then I bring my glass to my lips. A gasp comes from both Ophelia and Chris. Alycia snickers beside me. _She already knew_. I twist my head to look over at Nick, to see his reaction. His eyebrow quirks up at me, a smirk on his lips. "Do tell."

"Sophomore year." I explain. "Bella DeLuca. We'd been dating for about a month before we had sex. It was once, and it was _awful_. We were both too young and stupid to understand anything about it. We broke up a couple weeks after."

"No raunchy details?" Nick teases. "No make-out details, hickies, anything?"

"No." I playfully slap his arm. "Sicko."

"C'mon, I'm not the only one thinking about it."

"So, wait, you haven't had your cherry popped or whatever?" Chris asks from the ground. My face goes beet red at the question.

"C'mon, Chris, that's personal!" Ophelia tells him.

"Fine. Never had I ever had my cherry popped." He switches it around.

"First of all," I start, "you _just_ took a turn. You can't take two in a row. Cheater. And two, if you really must know: no. I haven't. No penis, real or otherwise, has ever entered the Forbidden Valley." I raise an eyebrow. "Happy now?"

He shrugs, embarrassed, and looks to the ground. _How's_ _ **that**_ _for personal?_

"Well then." Ophelia clears her throat. "Does that make it my turn?"

"Sure." Alycia nods.

Slyly, Ophelia starts off, "Never have I ever," and her eyes lightly pass over me, "wanted to kiss a person in this room."

 _Oh, you_ _ **bitch**_ _._

I freeze in my spot, heart hammering in my chest. _I don't need to take a sip_ , I think. It's just a silly game, no one will know if I lie. _But Alycia and Ophelia will_ , I argue with myself. _I just don't want_ _ **him**_ _to know_. My moral compass is too strong for me to withstand. With a mental middle finger pointed directly at Ophelia's face, my shaky hand brings my cup up and I take the tiniest of sips.

Eyes land on me as I set the cup back down on my thigh. I can't look at any of them; I'm not explaining this one. My eyes stare blankly at the floor in the silence. _How dare you, Ophelia._

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a slow movement. Curiously, I turn my head, and I'm shocked to see that Nick is taking a sip, too.

 _… Oh?_

 _Oh!_

 _That might not be about me,_ I reason _. He could totally want to kiss Ophelia. I mean, come on! She's gorgeous._

But his eyes capture mine as he slowly sets the cup back in his lap, rubbing it between both of his hands. When he breaks off the stare, I note the small tinge of pink in his tanned skin.

My mind goes blank. A thousand thoughts run through my mind all at once. _Was that about me? Oh, lord, what if it_ _ **was**_ _about me? What do I do? What's the code for this?_ Not once has a male crush liked me back before. I've never even _dated_ a bloke before. I don't know how to deal with them.

"Ophelia!" Daniel calls from up the stairs. "Time for your prayers and bed."

"Coming, papa!" She calls back up to him. I notice the devious grin she gives me as she finishes off her glass of juice. "Well, that was a lot of fun, guys, but duty calls. Good night. I'll see you in the morning."

With a wave, she puts her empty glass in the sink and heads up the stairs to her family.

"I should head to bed, too. Unless I want mom and Travis breathing down my neck." Chris adds. He finishes his cup, puts it in the sink, and waves good night. _Ouch. First-name basis with father-dearest?_

Alycia downs hers and sets it in the sink, curiously twisting the knob. When a small waterfall pours out, she exclaims, "Woohoo! Water's still running, so I'm gonna take a quick shower. Don't hurt yourselves while I'm gone."

"You act like we're children." I scoff.

She stares at me, deadpan. "The day I met you, you tripped over nothing and sprained your ankle. A year later we went to the beach and you almost swallowed seaweed on a dare. Yes, you are a child."

I laugh at her explanation, but nod in defeat. "Fine. You win. Go shower."

She leaves the room and hops into the shower, the noise of the water running breaking the silence between me and Nick. _Please break it._

"Well." He starts. _Thank god._ "That was one hell of a game."

I nod gingerly. "Yes, yes it was."

He looks down to my hands, my glass still between them. "You have a couple sips left. So do I." He holds his up a tad. "Want to keep going?"

I shrug. Nerves and excitement bubble in my stomach as I say, "You go first."

"Okay." Nick says. "Never have I ever almost eaten _seaweed_ on a dare!" His nose scrunches in disgust. I laugh heartily, gladly taking a swig. "That's appalling. I feel like there's a story behind that."

"Oh, there is!" I cackle. "But that's a story for another day."

I kick my legs underneath me, sitting up straight as I think of a question. "Never have I ever... Owned a dog before."

Nick takes a small sip, raising an eyebrow. "Really? Never?"

I shrug. "Had a couple cats, but no dogs."

"Damn. That is one _sad_ life." He sets the cup down on the coffee table beside the couch. His voice goes low as he looks to me. "Never have I ever… Wanted to kiss my best friend's brother."

The temperature in the room rises, like the tension is tangible. Electricity runs through my veins, and my heart pounds deep in my chest, catching in my throat. "Nick." _Please don't make me answer that._

He's barely audible as he says, "That's my question." Waiting a beat, he adds, "Please. Answer it."

And I do, truthfully. I toss my apple juice back, downing the rest of it. My eyes go to the empty glass, staring at my reflection in the bottom.

Willing my voice not to quiver, I say, "Never have I ever wanted to kiss my sister's best friend." Only then do I look back at him. My gaze is unwavering as I search his chocolate brown orbs, waiting.

And sure enough, he tosses his head back, finishing the rest.

 _H_ _oly shit. Is this real?_

My head pounds with this new information, my heart soaring and combusting, but I don't know what to say. The first thing that spills is:

"Nick, what the fuck?"

Nicks lets out a laugh at the statement. "Really, Tina? _That's_ the response I get?" He sets his glass on the coffee table before looking to me, cocking his head curiously.

"I-I'm sorry, I just… what the fuck? _When_?"

"Okay, okay." He holds up his hands in surrender. "I just, when I first met you, y'know? We were young, and you were pretty, and different, and you weren't afraid to throw hands with me like others were. And you were my sister's best friend, so you were over all the time. How could I _not_ have thought about you?"

"I…" My mouth gapes open like a fish. _C'mon, Tina, say something_. "And you didn't do anything?"

"Neither did you." He quirks an eyebrow up. _Touché_.

"Yeah, well, you know me with anxiety." My hand tightens its grip on the empty glass. "I tend to run in the other direction. But you, you run _to_ the danger most of the time."

Nick shrugs, casting his eyes down. "You're my sister's best friend. That's like, top-level forbidden fruit. You're off-limits."

"Well—" I start, but am interrupted by the bathroom door opening, revealing a messy Alycia with wet strands of hair stuck to her face.

"Water ended _seconds_ after I got my conditioner out!" She exclaims, rubbing a towel through her soaked messy locks. "Talk about luck."

When she turns to look at the two of us on the couch, she cocks her head to the side. "You two okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" Nick answers for the both of us smoothly. _Thank god. I don't think I can form a coherent thought right now._ He stands and turns to me, holding a hand out.

 _My glass. He wants my glass._

I hand it to him, vaguely noticing my shaking hands, and give a quick thanks. As he heads to the kitchen, I stand up abruptly from my seat. "I'm gonna go change."

 _That's right, Cristina Waters. Run from your feelings. Maybe you really_ _ **are**_ _a child._

As quick as I can, I head down the hall, to the garage where the washer and dryer are set. Madison has us on a strict schedule for laundry. It's worked out well for us, but I'm _very_ lazy when it comes to folding my own, so I haven't grabbed it from my basket that sits atop the dryer yet.

Quickly I change into clean pajamas and head back to the living room. When I return, all lights are off and Alycia's lying in the blow-up mattress, the blanket we share tucked comfortably under her chin. Nick lays on the couch, eyes peering at the ceiling sleepily.

I slink in beside Alycia quietly, and toss and turn under the blanket until I'm finally comfortable.

When my eyes finally close, there's one thought in mind. _He liked me. Maybe he still does._

* * *

 _A/N: Ta da! So, I'm not as close as I had originally thought to the end of season one. However, it still shouldn't be much longer. I have a plan (mostly.) I hope you all enjoy this story so far. Feel free to leave a review or PM, they really make my day :)_

 _P.S. Can you see why I upped the rating? I don't really know if this would be okay in a T setting, but either way it was going to go up to M. Better sooner rather than later._


	7. Chapter 7: Broken Fantasy, Harsh Reality

A/N: Hey everyone! We're super close to season two. I think in maybe a chapter or two, we'll be setting sail on the Abigail! (Which also means we're getting closer to smuts-ville, for you dirty minds out there ;)) I'm super excited for both of those milestones.

 _Update as of **5/6/19** : Yay, another chapter redone!_

* * *

I spend the morning by myself. Or, at least try to. I figure, with everything going on inside the safe-zone, I could use a minute to recharge my batteries.

Before the sun is high, I sneak out the front door, take a right, and find myself staring at the _old_ , rusted metal that used to be a truck. Mr. Clarke's. It's sat there for about a decade; when he was still kickin', he didn't have the heart to scrap it. Now it's as much a piece of the Clarke house as the _actual_ house.

The way to the rooftop is simple. Jump into the bed of the truck, hop on the top, and hoist yourself on the edge of the roof. I do it without thought and climb up the highest spot of the house, quiet as I can. Most people inside are still asleep.

The sky is a deep mix of purples, pinks, and oranges. _Pretty_. I lean back against the rooftop, curling my hands behind my head as I stare up at the molding colors. I've missed sunrises. Mum and I were always early birds, so we'd leave the apartment in the early hours of the morning and watch the sun from the hood of her car. I smile softly, closing my eyes. _Those were great memories_.

I rest there, quietly, until the sun beats against my face. The warmth is soft, barely-there, and I watch as the purples and pinks and oranges even out, transforming into a bright yellow that burns brightly. If I had a clock that worked, I'd guess it'd say seven or eight in the morning.

A faint pounce on the ground on my right catches my attention, and I watch a pair of hands hoist a body up to the ledge of the roof. "'xcuse me, spot's taken."

My words make Chris jump; I grin quietly. _Guess you didn't expect anyone up here, huh_?

"Sorry, Tina!" He stutters, pulling himself all the way up. "I normally vlog up here." Chris pulls out his camera from his sweatshirt, holding it up for me to see.

"Take a seat, Pete." I pat the tile beside me as my eyes stare out at the sky. "I'll leave in a minute. I just wanted to see the sunrise."

Chris takes a couple tentative steps towards me, and I hear him settle onto the empty tile, a gentle _clunk_ as he sets his camera down, too. Softly, I murmur, "Y'know, Alycia, Nick, and I would sneak out and see the stars?"

He hums in response, not committing to actual conversation. But that's fine; I don't know him very well, same goes for him knowing me. He seems like an introvert, anyways.

I continue, my eyes searching through clouds. "Whenever I slept over—when I first met them, anyways—we'd sneak out at midnight, or one in the morning, and just stare at the sky. We'd try to pick out constellations, make wishes on shooting stars, all that."

"You know any? Constellations, I mean."

I smile. "Besides Big Dipper, absolutely not. But that's what made it fun. Just like looking at clouds."

Chris is quiet for a minute, but adds, "When my parents and I went camping, that's what we would do. Stargaze in the middle of the night. _He's_ the reason I know the scorpious constellation by heart."

I twist my head to look at him. "What's it look like?"

"Okay, so… Imagine, like, a swirly line, right?" He gestures into the air with his hands. "Kind of like a capitol C on one end, then a bit of a curve, then the other end is sort of like a pitchfork."

"A pitchfork."

"Yeah. It has three prongs." Chris looks to me, noticing the confused grin on my face, and shrugs it off with a smile. "I'll show you one of these nights. It's really pretty."

"I bet." I pull myself into a sitting position and stretch out my back. "I should get going, I promised Alycia I'd help her fold laundry today."

I get ready to push myself off the ground before Chris asks, "You two aren't… like… _Together_ , together, are you?"

Laughter escapes my throat before I can stop it. "Absolutely not, Chris! No, nonono. You really think that?"

"Hey," he cracks a smirk. "Yesterday I found out you were into girls. Just wonderin'."

"For your information, I love _all_ of god's creatures equally. And Alycia is very _very_ straight. Besides, she's my best friend. She's like my sister."

"Gotcha. Like I said, just wondering."

Before I can come up with any witty remark, Travis's voice beams from the truck. "Kids! Breakfast!"

* * *

With the sun fully up and the house mostly empty, I spread out my EMT book on the kitchen table and enjoy the quiet time. With a pen, I write down what I deem important info to remember in my old English notebook and doodle quick notes in the margins of the book. Almost every scenario begins with calling 911. _I don't think that'll work nowadays_.

I scribble down some acronyms to remember certain procedures. _RICE- Rest, Ice, Compress, Elevate. That's how to treat a sprain_. Then I add what each piece means, how to wrap a hand and ankle with an ACE bandage, and how long to ice it. The ACE bandage is a beige material, stretchy and moveable to help immobilize a part, but not cut off circulation. Liza, being a nurse, had an extra one unused. She gave it to me, saying, "Practice on yourself. It's not as easy as the diagram."

I'm grateful and thank her before she leaves to treat her patients. With her being a nurse, she's taken care of the sick in our safe-zone. I know she took care of Scott the past few days, and that she was against the militia moving him from his family. _Another reason I'm grateful for someone like her taking care of us_.

No doctors have visited, which makes the Salazar's worry for Griselda. Her foot hasn't gotten better since the fall, and Liza says that if she continues without proper treatment, she's going to lose the foot and go into sepsis. Or something equally horrible.

I start reading the chapter on gunshot wounds when the front door creaks open. Quickly looking over, I give a wave to Ophelia as she shuts it behind her. Then I take in her furrowed brow, set frown, and twitching fingers that rest on her elbow.

"You okay, love?" I ask, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah." She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts, rubbing her arm up and down hastily. With quick strides she goes to the table, sitting at the front and directly across from me. "Just a little worried, is all."

"About what?" I drop the pen onto the paper, keeping my focus on her. To keep myself fidgeting I grab the ACE bandage, unfurling it slowly and stretching the material before rolling it back up.

"There's a doctor in town today." Ophelia explains. She rests her elbows at the edge of the table, wringing her hands. "And she said that she would take my mother to treat her. My papa is going, too. But I'm not allowed."

"Why not?" I say. I take one of her hands and pull it down to the table gently, stopping her worried fidgeting, and hold out the bandage. "You mind if I practice?"

She shakes her head no, and I begin to unravel it at her wrist, pulling it upwards and spinning it around her palm. "They can only take so many people out of the community at once, and if I'm not at risk of anything I'm not important enough to leave."

Ophelia sighs, shutting her eyes tight. "I don't know when they'll be coming back. _If_ they're coming back."

I finish the wrap and look up to her. She frowns, keeping her gaze on her bandaged hand. My own goes to her shoulder, patting it gently. "Of course they'll come back. They have to. I know it's not exactly the best of situations, but the medical treatment there is better than here. They took Scott yesterday, remember? He'll get treated and come home, just like your parents. Just have hope."

She gives a grim smile, but still tells me, "Thank you, Tina."

"Anytime." I smile and pull away from her. "Now, quick question. Is the bandage okay?"

She tries to bend her hand. "Um, I think I lost circulation."

"Bloody hell." I grumble. With a quick tug the bandage unravels itself, and underneath the skin is red and angry. "Oops. Sorry, love."

"Want to try again?"

"If you don't mind."

"Here, let me see the book real quick." Ophelia grabs the EMT book and flips through a couple pages, finding the chapter quickly. "Okay, how about we try it like this instead?"

* * *

The sun is finally setting in the sky after my long day of learning. My wraps have gotten better (thank goodness Ophelia doesn't mind being a test subject,) and my notebook has a good twenty pages filled with emergency medicine. My pen rests in the spiral of the book, a nice contrast in color, striking to my eye. The pen black, the notebook cover light blue.

A rough knock on the front door pulls me away from my book, and Madison and I go to the front to open it simultaneously. She's the one who grabs the knob, and I note the shaking in her fingers. _You all right?_

A petite woman—older, with short black hair neatly pulled into a bun and a neat clipboard in hand—is surrounded by men in army uniforms. Some faces I recognize from yesterday at the Ardnois house; the ones that took Scott. "We're looking for Griselda Salazar?"

"Up here!" Liza calls from the top of the stairs. The woman and men barge their way in, making sure to stomp on _every single step on the way up. We get it, guys, you're big strong burly men who don't answer to anyone._ I follow quietly behind them, to be there for Ophelia when her parents leave. I lean against the doorframe of Alycia's bedroom silently, watching.

As the doctor and Liza converse, Ophelia holds tightly onto her mother's hand, whispering calming words to her in Spanish. The men in green go back outside, bringing in a stretcher to set her on. As they grip Griselda, she cries out in pain. The sound makes Ophelia whimper. _Poor thing can't help. All she can do is be strong for her mother._

When Griselda is finally settled and being wheeled out, Ophelia plants a chaste kiss on her head, hands holding onto her mother's until she's out the door. Daniel gives her a tight hug goodbye. "I don't know how long we will be."

"I know, I know." Ophelia grimaces, whispering something in Spanish to him. _If only I knew what they were saying. I should've paid more attention in class._

The sound of a door squeaking behind me grabs my attention. I turn around, looking as Nick and Alycia walk out of his old room, standing by the side of the hallway. Nick's arms are wrapped around himself tightly, a quiver in his figure. One eye is bruised and black, along with a purple mark at his jaw. I try to capture his eyes in a stare, but he doesn't return it. He shakes his head, a small sob threatening to exhale. _What the hell happened?_

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to stop." The rough voice of a soldier captures my attention at the top of the stairs. I look over to him, his hand held out in front of Daniel. _Why aren't you letting him pass?_

"No, it's okay, it's his wife." Madison says. _Yeah, he's supposed to go with Griselda. He should be on your list, too._

"I have two names." The soldier holds up his clipboard.

"Griselda Salazar." Daniel points out the door, then to himself. "Daniel Salazar."

"No, not you." The soldier says adamantly. "Nicholas Clark?"

 _… What?!_

My blood freezes as I hear his name. _No, that can't be right. He's not sick._

"What?" Madison voices my thoughts exactly, her tone wild.

"C'mon, man." The soldier says, looking to the guys of our group. "Free medical care on behalf of the US military."

Alycia turns to Nick, fear in her eyes. " _Run_."

And he does. He's quick to turn and run away from the army men, down the end of the hall and to the bathroom. _What, are you going to jump out the window?_

"No, no, that's a mistake." Madison persists. "It _has_ to be a mistake!"

"He's not sick!" I say purposefully. I nearly scream as the army men barge into the bathroom, pulling Nick out and dragging him out the room. He writhes in their grasp, elbowing one of them in the face. Angrily, the soldier takes his pistol and clocks Nick in the back of the head. He drops to the floor like dead weight, groaning at the pain.

My blood pressure spikes as I run over to the two of them. "Don't hurt him!"

"HEY, _HEY_!" Alycia screams at them. One of the men push me back—one from yesterday—away from them. Madison runs over to the group, trying to pull one of them away from Nick. Another soldier yanks her off, saying that Nick will receive the best medical care under their behalf. There's no reason to be worried. _Bull_ _ **shit**_ _._

 _Don't take him. He's not sick! Don't take him away from us._

"Let me talk to Moyers! He knows me! Just let me talk to him, we'll sort this out!" Travis pleads.

One of the soldiers pushes him and Madison away. " _Stand down_." He orders, eyes piercingly angry.

They pull Nick from the ground harshly, holding his arms back as they stride down the stairs. "I didn't-" Nick groans, "I didn't do anything wrong, man."

"No! No, don't take him!" I run down the stairs after them, pulling at one of the men holding him. "Don't take him away from us!" _Don't take him away from me._ "He's not sick! Your orders are wrong!"

"Stand down, miss." Another soldier pulls me away, his hand gripping my forearm tightly as they walk out the door. "Our medical will take good care of your boyfriend."

 _One, he's not my boyfriend. Two, I don't believe half the shit you say._

"Oh, bollocks!" I yell at him, yanking my arm from his grasp. In a fury I run out the door. " _NICK_!"

He gazes over to me as the soldiers bend him over the edge of a truck, one holding him tightly as the other zip ties his hands together behind his back. His eyes are wide and dark and full of fear. _He's terrified._

The solder from earlier grabs me again, pulling me backwards before I can run to Nick or sock one of the militia men. "I said _stand down_ , miss. He'll be fine."

My breath comes out in pants as Nick mouths something to me. _What are you saying?_ I furrow my brows as he tries again slowly. " _I'm sorry._ "

And without a care for his safety, the soldiers' zip-tying him throw him in the back of the truck. "No." I shake my head. " _No_." I try to pull myself out of the soldier's grasp, but he's too strong for me to shake off. Liza hops into the back of another truck, her eyes staring at the house as the vehicles roar to life and slowly pull away. The soldier finally lets me go as he feels me slump in place, my worry and anger replaced by utter grief and dejection.

 _Why did they take him?_ I think. He was fine, he was _clean_ for almost two weeks.

… Right?

"Where is he? Where did you take him?!" Madison runs out the house, screaming. "Nick!"

"He's gone." I say, monotonous. My stomach churns at the thought. "They took him away." My eyes are glassy as I watch the trucks and soldiers leave through the gate, away from my view. _Away from me._

"Why did they take him?" I turn to Madison. She'd know. She knows everything about Nick. "He wasn't sick, he didn't need any medicine."

I wait a beat before adding, "Or did he?"

She sighs, her whole body drooping as her sad eyes look to me. "What do you think?"

And that confirms my thought.

 _He was using again._

I leave her, turning swiftly and heading back inside the house, my movements rigid and stiff. _He was using. This whole bloody time he was using and_ _ **lying**_ _to me._ My mind wanders to last night. _Was he lying then, too?_

"… Cristina?" Ophelia's soft voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"No." I'm quiet, but the answer is immediate. I don't look up to her. My vision stays planted to the ground, looking at the old tile beneath my feet. Another pair comes into view, wearing raggedy sneakers. Then arms envelop my firm stance.

"It's gonna be okay." Ophelia whispers softly into my ear. "They're gonna come back, okay? Just like you told me this morning. They have to."

My rigid stance melts in her arms slowly, my own going around her, too. But suddenly, I don't agree with the statement. "No, they won't."

She pulls me closer, tight and strong. "Then we _make them_ come home."

When she pulls away, I see the determined glare in her eyes. _So hopeful._ "You hear me?"

I nod, a small smile forming as I give in to her strength. "I hear you."

* * *

The next morning comes by slowly, night taking an eternity to pass. After breakfast, Ophelia and I head to the front gate, ready to cause a scene. In our hands are glass bottles taken from the recycling bin. Most of the soldiers are on the other side of the fence, taking a break from patrolling the perimeter. Many have large guns in hand, staring out to the dead zone with boredom clear on their faces. _They just like looking tough for us_ _ **damsels**_ _._

"You want to throw the first one?" Ophelia looks to me. We set our batch on the ground, and I do a quick count. _There's nine in total. Make them count._

"Don't mind if I do." I take an old beer bottle from the group, giving a heavy heave and hitting the fence towards the top. _"Hey,_ _ **wankers**_ _! Where did you take them?!"_ The glass sprinkles on the ground as it hits, tiny shards hitting the sunlight at a perfect angle to glow brightly. The men turn to us, frustration setting in.

Ophelia grabs one too, tossing hers back with veal. " _Tell me where they are, you fascist pricks!_ "

One of the men sighs on the edge of a truck. With unhurried movement, he grabs a megaphone and orders, "Cease your hostile action and return to your homes."

"Tell me where she _is,_ you _asshole!_ " Ophelia bangs on the fence with her hand, shaking it as she goes.

"We'll show you hostile, you _cock-ups!_ " I scream at them. As Ophelia moves away from the fence I throw another bottle. " _Where is our family?!_ "

Ophelia launches another bottle soaring. "Come out here, you cowards! We'll show you _hostile_." Under her breath, she mutters out something in Spanish. _Oh, if only I knew what you were saying, love. I'm sure I'd get a kick out of it._

"Where did you take them?" I holler out. _Bam_ , another bottle to the ground. _That's five_ , I remind myself. _Make them count._ " _Where are they?_ "

Ophelia turns around at the sound of others muttering behind us. I turn my head, noticing some of the locals staring at us from their front doors and the streets.

"What are you afraid of?" Ophelia calls out to them. "You know they're not here to protect us! You've seen what they do. When are you gonna step up?"

"Huh? When they come for _you_?" I challenge them. "When they come for _your_ families? They've taken a _seven-year-old_! What's going to stop them from taking _your_ kids, _your_ loved ones?"

"Why are you hiding?" Ophelia adds. My heart drops as I see some close their doors, others walking away from us, shaking their head in shame.

We turn back to the gate, watching as two army men run up to the gates. _To silence us, not to bring us to them._ I grab a bottle in preparation. _Assholes._

"I want my mother!" Ophelia throws one last bottle half-heartedly at them, though she's done fighting. Her hand runs across her face, quickly wiping away any visible tears.

The gate finally opens, letting out two soldiers. Ophelia goes to throw another bottle at them, as do I. "Go ahead," one of them says, "I wouldn't blame you."

"Adams." Ophelia whimpers out, only loud enough for me to hear.

I look over to her, curious. "Boyfriend?"

"Sort of." She whispers. Defeated, she drops her bottle to the ground, dropping on her knees. She lets out a soft sob as Adams goes to her, sitting beside her and softly holding her.

The other man in green goes to me, trying to pull me aside. "Piss off." I spit, dropping the bottle. It shatters at my feet. _Only two left._

"Hey." Adams says softly to Ophelia. "Look at me. Let me take you home, okay?"

He pulls her up from the ground. "I can't—I can't go back there." She begs him. "I can't!"

"It'll be okay. We'll get you home now." He tries to reassure her.

Silently, she nods and he puts his arm around her shoulders. They begin walking together, going back to the Clarke house.

"That means you, too, sweetheart." The soldier besides me says. "Head on home. You've blown enough steam."

I whip my head around to look at him, fury in my eyes. " _Excuse_ me, twat?" He raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to move. "No, I'm staying right here. I'm planting my ass on this spot and waiting until you take me to them."

In a huff, I drop to the ground, ignoring the glass shards scratching the denim of my jeans.

The man above grinds his teeth together, setting his jaw. "And what makes you think we allow this kind of action? We don't take hostile protestors lightly."

"You consider sitting hostile?" I bite, venom in my words. "I'll be _right here_ , silent. I won't, 'incite the natives,' or blow a fuse. Peaceful crap. Sound good?"

He huffs above me, angry, but bangs on the gate so they let him back out.

 _Good. I'm not leaving until you take me to him._

* * *

By noon, the sun is high in the sky, the heat blistering. My skin is starting to burn (I really should have brought sun screen,) but I don't move from my spot. _I'm not leaving until I know where Nick is._

I take one of the broken shards, spinning it around between my palms absentmindedly. The tip rests easy on my skin, not piercing, but jabbing lightly. _Just when everything seems to be going right between us, something happens. God, what if there isn't anything? What if he doesn't like me; what if it was just the drugs talking?_ I drop my head at the thought, sighing heavily. _That crush was freshman year. He could've just wanted to get it off his chest. Might not mean a damn thing._

"… Cristina? Is that you?" I turn at the voice, finding Travis walking towards me.

"Yessir." I give a half-assed salute to him as he drops onto his knees beside me.

"What's going on? What're you doing?"

I point over to the soldiers on the outside of the gate. "I'm peacefully protesting the kidnapping of Nick and Griselda. And Scott. Liza, too, if you want me to add her to the list. Come to protest, too?"

"I'm here to talk to Moyers, the lieutenant." Travis answers. "Listen, Tina, go home. Get some water and food. Some Aloe, too, while you're at it. You're burning." I shake my head at the order. "I'm gonna talk to Moyers and get this all sorted out, okay? I'm gonna bring them home."

I look over to him sadly, planting a grim smile on my face. "You really think that's going to work?"

"It has to. They're reasonable people. They'll understand."

I shake my head again, bringing my knees up to my chest and hugging them. "No, they won't." I look over to the soldiers. "You can try, but self-preservation is all they care about. Not us."

Travis doesn't respond, but the frown makes me believe the thought sticks. He stands from beside me, going to the fence. "Can I talk to Moyers please? I'd like to talk to him for a minute. Please."

The gate opens and he steps through. I rest my chin on my knees, watching as Travis converses with one of the men. They jump into a truck, a few other greenies hopping into the back, and the vehicle drives into the dead zone.

 _Oh, no. Not you, too._

* * *

"You're still here?" A familiar voice calls from behind me. I note the crinkling of a chip bag, and the crunch of someone eating.

"Yes." I answer. Alycia plops down beside me, a full bottle of water and open family-sized bag of sour cream and onion chips in hand. "What're you doing?"

"Coming to feed you. Ophelia said you were still here." She says, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth.

"Thanks." I grin at her. She points the opening of the bag to me, and I eagerly grab a couple. "I'm starving."

"Maybe you should come back home and get an actual meal, though."

I shake my head. "I can't. They need to know."

"Need to know _what_?"

"That they can't just take our people without thinking there won't be consequences." I say adamantly. "They took our friends, our _family_ , and they're going to take more."

"So you're gonna stay out here until they come back?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Something like that."

"What if they don't?" I sigh at the thought. "I'm serious. They _were_ sick. And if they get sicker? They're not coming back. You just gonna keep starving yourself?"

"Until I know what happened to Nick, I'm staying right here." I resolve. I take the water bottle from her, sipping it happily.

"Maybe… That's not what's best for you, Tina." Alycia tells me seriously. "Nick's an addict. He went back. I told you; he always goes back."

I sigh and grab another handful of chips. _She's not wrong._ "I can't help myself."

* * *

When Alycia leaves, the truck that took Travis comes back, less soldiers on it than before. Thankfully, _Travis_ is still on it. _Thank god_.

His eyes are glassy as the gate opens. Concern is written in every feature. _What did you see?_ He passes by me, barely even looking at me as he speeds up his steps.

"You're _still here?_ " One soldier asks. "C'mon, kid, _go home_."

Shakily, I stand from my spot and go to the fence. My hand curls around the metal, fingers poking to the other side. "Where are the rest of your men?"

"It's called the dead zone for a reason." The soldier answers. The gate opens, shoving me off the fence. Some of the greenies come inside, dispersing in separate directions. Two, however, stay beside the fence. "The dead got to 'em. We have this fence up to keep all of you safe, so none of you need to face that. Maybe you should start showin' some respect."

I quirk an eyebrow up at the silent threat. "I show respect when it's earned."

"Yeah? And how do we do that?"

"Take me to them." I say. "Take me to Nick and Scott and Griselda."

The man rips off his camouflage hat, beating it against his leg. His head turns upward to the sun, allowing the rays to beat on his pale skin. "Y'know, we take you there, you ain't coming back."

"Is that so?"

He sets the cap back on his head and stalks over to me. "We take the sick to save the many. That's our job. You're a perfectly healthy woman, so it is in your _best_ interest to stay in the safe-zone. But as you've proven, you're not one to be easily swayed. You really wanna leave?"

"I think I've answered that already, sir." My eyes meet his, gaze unwavering. _Take me to him._

He sighs heavily. "Fine. It's not like I have to ask Moyers."

"Why not?" I ask, this time with actual concern.

"He was taken by the infected." The soldier answers simply. His fist bangs against the gate, and the others open it for him. He beckons me over, and my eyes widen in surprise. _He wasn't lying_. "We don't have a leader now. Unless someone volunteers the position, we're without a boss."

 _Oh, is that the only reason you're taking me? No big guy to say no?_

"… I'm sorry for your loss."

It seems to be a reasonable response. The soldier shakes his head as we make it to one of the trucks. He barks a couple orders to another soldier.

"Don't be." He heads to the back of the truck, throwing a tarp off some equipment. "It happens. It's not the first time we've lost a troop in battle. It won't be the last."

He rummages around the back, obviously searching for something. I think a moment, asking, "How long will this ride be?"

"You won't find out." He answers vaguely. "And remember, this is a one-way trip. You ain't coming home."

The reminder makes my stomach flop. _Do I really want to do this?_ "You don't think I'll find my way back?"

"I know you won't."

"But _why_?" I challenge. "Are you going to throw a bag over my head so I can't determine our direction? My internal compass will still work." I look to the front of the truck, my eyes gazing over the side mirror. My face, which is most certainly sunburnt, is warped to be smaller than imagined. I can barely see the soldier behind me in the frame. He's still bent over the truck's edge, searching for something.

"It doesn't work if you're knocked out."

The thought barely registers in my head before he moves in the mirror.

"What?" I squeak out. Then the pain of something heavy hits the back of my skull. Almost in slow motion, my hand goes back, feeling the spot that was just attacked. A lump is already forming underneath my fingers.

I fall forward, my face smashing into dirt and pebbles. They scratch at my burnt face easily— _not_ a pleasant feeling. As I make my tumble forward, my eyes just barely catch the side mirror on the truck. Standing above me is the soldier, a large gun in hand. My eyes flutter shut from the pain, only one thought in mind.

 _Bastard._

* * *

When I wake up, my head is pounding from the pain. _Oh, god. Don't move just yet._ If I do, I might vomit. Better to stay crumpled on the floor, my shoulder digging uncomfortably into the solid ground.

I blink my eyes open, gently stretching in my position, and search my surroundings. _Why is it so dark?_

Then I hear the sound of someone gagging, the scent of vomit immediately assaulting my nostrils.

"I was hoping we'd have something to mask the smell of urine." Someone says. It's a deep baritone; soothing. _He's close, but where?_ "You saved the day."

The sound of something metal rattling goes through me, a few feet away. _A fence?_

"Why'd you do that?" A familiar voice, groggy and pained, strikes a chord in me. _Nick?_ "What you did with the guard. You saved me."

"No." The answer is quick. "I _obligated_ you. There's a difference."

I groan in my spot, heaving myself upwards. The shifting of fabric on my face makes me realize _, it's not dark. There's something on my head._ "Get it off! Get it off!"

My hands grab at it in a frenzy, yanking the black beanie covering my face off and throwing it haphazardly. _Finally._ Dim lights brighten the area, soft and easy. There's multiple people around, but we're separated from each other by a perimeter of fence. Each in our own cages, at least five or six to an area. _Like we're animals. Cruel._

In my cage, there's a sad excuse for a wooden bench in the middle, occupied by a black man in a dark suit. He gives a sly grin to me. "Ah, sleeping beauty finally awakens."

The other person in my cage, pressed against the exact opposite fence from me, is Nick. I call out his name giddily. _Thank god._

" _Tina_?" He questions. He doesn't look good. His eyes are sunken, skin ashen, and his old man coat is wrapped tightly around himself for warmth. "Is that you?"

"In the flesh." I answer. I go to stand and a wave of vertigo flies through me. "Ah, shit."

"Stay still." Nick requests. On wobbly legs, he stands and hobbles over. When he drops to his knees, his hand searches the side of my cheek. "Jesus, T, you're completely red."

I shiver under his touch, though play it off as a shrug. "I forgot to wear sunscreen. Sue me."

"I just might." He regards me wearily. His fingers trail to the other cheek, then down to my shoulders. "Seriously, bathe in Aloe for the next three years. You might just heal properly."

"I'll keep it in mind, Nick." _Not, "yank." Now you_ _ **know**_ _I'm pissed_.

I raise an eyebrow at him. _You're one to talk, mister, "I've been using this entire bloody time."_

He drops his hand from me as we hear the man behind us clear his throat. "Ah, young love at its finest."

Nick and I both glare at him, but I have nothing to say. I'm too tired and the pounding in my head still hasn't gone down. I look over to Nick. "He a friend of yours?"

"I don't think he has friends." Nick answers. He slumps against the fence beside me as he looks to the man. "Just _obligations._ "

"You learn fast." The man answers slyly. "You see, the game has changed. We return to the old rules." He stands from the bench, readjusting his jacket and stalking over to us. "You see, the people who won the last round with their grande lattes and frequent flyer miles are about to become, _the buffet_." He leans against the fence behind us, arms crossed as he looks down to us.

No, not _us_. Specifically at Nick. "I look at you, and I see someone who knows the meaning of necessity."

"Well, I'm an addict."

"No, you are a _heroin_ addict. That's the golden standard. Don't sell yourself short."

"Why does that matter?" I raise an eyebrow at him. _What game are you playing, mister, "I have no friends?"_

He slinks down against the fence, slowly lowering himself until he's closer to us. He leans over, whispering, "The soldiers are leaving."

He pulls away, continuing. "I'm gonna require a man with your talents when I make my move."

Nick looks over to him curiously. "What move?"

Slowly, the man reaches into his pocket, pulling out something small and resting it in the middle of his palm. Then he stretches his arm out to us, unfurling his fingers to present a dirty old key. _Oh, you sly dog, you!_

Nick leans back into the fence, calculating something. "She comes with us." He jerks his head over to me. "That goes without saying."

"The deal's for you. _Just_ you." The man replies smoothly. _Wait, excuse me?_ "I need your talents, not hers."

"She'd probably help more than me." Nick defends. "You can trust her."

"Oh, please." I jump in, eyeing the man warily. "He's never trusted anyone in his life. Can't you see that?" The man shrugs, agreeing. "However, you don't need to trust _me_. Trust in the fact that I want to get out of here just as much as you. I won't put our lives in jeopardy. Not yours, not mine, not Nick's."

He brings a hand to his chin, absentmindedly stroking it as he thinks. When he looks down, I note the curious gleam in his eyes. "No, you wouldn't, would you? Not after being reunited with your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend." I immediately answer.

"Maybe not, but you care about him. And you wouldn't put his life at risk." I nod easily. I wouldn't. "You wouldn't put mine at risk, either. Because if I die, that means he does, too."

"Mmhmm." I agree. "I can help. If you let me."

"If I _obligate_ you." He corrects.

I roll my eyes. _Nit-picky_. "If you obligate me. Do we have a deal?"

"Of sorts." He nods, holding out a hand for me to shake. And I do, firmly.

 _Good. Now let's get the hell out of here._

* * *

A/N: Ta da! If you liked it, please leave a review or a PM. They really make my day :)


	8. Chapter 8: The New World

_A/N: Hello fanfiction and all who inhabit it!_

 _I know, I know. It's been far too long without an update. I apologize, truly, but this chapter is FINALLY out and it is as LONG as it is amazing. About 8,000 words, so I hope it makes up for my inactivity! I hope you all love it._

 _Just remember throughout this chapter: good things come to those who wait ;)_

 _Update as of **5/9/19** : Yay, onto season two's facelift! Awesome. Fair warning, this chapter is the longest out of the story, and it's even **longer** with the revision. Almost 9,000 words, just to put it in perspective. Grab some popcorn, folks._

* * *

A good six hours later, and _nothing has happened._

No more soldiers have come through, so we haven't had a chance to make our move. The three of us—and the others in their cages—are starting to feel claustrophobic. Many bang the fence walls, begging for an ounce of freedom.

I didn't quite realize how large this room was. The fenced areas are right beside each other, so there are dozens upon dozens. The actual walls to the room are spread so far apart that each cry has an echo.

This is torture. I feel so useless. My fate, and Nick's, depends on the suit-clad deal maker on the rickety old bench. I wouldn't put it against him to use us as bait and save his own hide, but alas, he's all we have. I just pray we get out of this alive.

I'm resting on the floor of the cage, barely holding onto consciousness. My skin burns; I'm tired and exhausted, but too nervous to actually rest. It's leaving me in a state of limbo I call hell.

My eyes are barely open, and they can't keep up with Nick's constant pacing. From one wall to the next, back and forth, no breath in between each movement. _Stop it. Oh my god, just_ _ **sit**_ _._

Just when I'm about to comment, Nick punches the fence, jostling me awake some more. Strand just sighs.

"Don't draw unnecessary attention." He instructs, calm and smooth. Long fingers readjust the tie on his shirt as Nick finds his gaze.

"I'm losing my mind. I thought that house was bad."

He strides past me again, and _oh no. I am not having him run around this bloody cage again._ I manage to grab his hand from my spot on the ground, pulling at him so he looks at me.

I stand up beside him, pulling him aside as I whisper, "Stop, yank. You're making me dizzy."

"Picture you're somewhere else." Strand offers. "With a needle in your arm."

I glare at him. "Not helping."

I feel Nick squeeze my hand in console and nearly jump at the action. I forgot I was holding it. And like I was burned, I drop it from my grasp. _I'm still mad at him. Pissed, even._ I don't look when he raises his eyebrow in question.

"Where's your house?" Strand asks him.

"Close. El Sereno."

"Oldest community in Los Angeles. Predates the city. Vibrant. Blue-collar. Diverse." I listen to Strand in amusement. "I'd gentrify the shit out of El Sereno."

I chuckle a tad, and he adds, "In another time, another world."

While I would _never_ say I trust him, he _does_ make the time pass. I ask, "What about you? Where are you from?"

He chuckles. "Wouldn't you like to know, sweetheart."

 _Distancing yourself, huh?_

I'm not given another chance to playfully banter as the lights flicker and die. A loud crack of gunshots fills the air, along with the gentle beeping of an alarm.

"What's that?" Nick asks, immediately straightening up against the wall. Strand pulls himself from the bench, going to the closest corner of the cage to the door. The sound of screaming echoes as Nick and I trail close behind.

"Stay close." Strand whispers. Nonchalantly, he pulls away from the corner and rests along the fenced door. "It's time to go."

"So where are we going?" Nick whispers back.

Strand doesn't answer, but brings his hand to his breast pocket to fish out the key. Then his pants pockets. And his back pockets. Then he begins to pat himself down looking for the damn thing. _Where the fuck did you put it?_

"What's wrong?" Nick inquires. Then, with a sly grin, he brings his hand up from his own pocket, key in hand. I grin. _I may be mad at him, but that was brilliant._

Strand stares, a mixture of angry and impressed, and yanks the key out of Nick's hand. Slowly, quietly, he twists the key and opens the door.

We follow close behind, silently walking as every person runs up to the fences in their respective cages. They all burn in my side, but I keep my mouth shut.

"Let us out, please!"

"Please! Please help us!"

More pleads fill my ears, but I make no sound back. This deal is for me and Nick, no one else. _And it hurts._

"The key is not one size fits all." Strand replies smoothly to the begs. He continues striding to the compound's door, unfazed. We walk past the cages, and curiously I look to the locks.

 _I'm willing to bet that's a lie._

"We'll _die_ in here!" One man shouts.

"My friend, you are more likely to die out there."

A flash of anger pangs through my chest, directed at Strand. How _dare_ he pawn away their _lives_ like this? They deserve as much a right to live as us.

"We're not gonna help them?" Nick questions, gritting his teeth.

"We're not gonna help them." Strand nods.

"… Tina?"

At the sound of my name I whip my head around, eyes searching through the surrounding faces. "Who said that?"

"Me!" I hear again. _To my left_. I take three large steps, wide-eyed as I crane my neck to see through the masses. "Me, Tina! Down here!"

" _Scott_?!"

He's hidden behind a group of teenagers _much taller_ than him, but he manages to shove his way to the front of the crowd. My feet pound the concrete as I run to his cage and grin.

"Hey buddy!" Gently, I kneel on the ground and grasp the fence, looking up to his little face. "How're you feeling?"

"Better." His voice squeaks, and I smile endearingly. "They said my fever's almost gone. And I've been coughing less." He wrings his hands awkwardly, looking away. He knows me from the few times I hung out with Rhea, but he doesn't _know_ me. And now I'm his last hope.

"That's great, buddy." I look to the opening of the fence and jerk my head at the lock. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

"Please! I want to see Rhea."

"Let's take you to her." I hold my hand over my shoulder. "Strand, the key."

"No."

I whip my head to stare at her. "Strand," I say tensely. " _The key_. This little guy deserves freedom as much as we do."

"No, miss Waters."

" _Why_?"

He turns to me, slowing his words to add emphasis. "Because helping him could hurt us."

"Don't leave us here." An older woman begs. She's very close—the next cage over—nearly right beside the door leading into the compound. My heart breaks, and I scrunch my nose in anger.

"There's no value add." Strand adds, continuing to leisurely stroll to the compound's door.

" _Seriously_?" Nick asks, aggravated. "He's a kid!"

"These are their _lives_!" I bark at Strand, standing to reach his height and resist the urge to swing at his _smug face_. "They could have families, children, to go back to!" I jerk my index finger to point at Scott. "Scott Ardnois has loving parents and a big sister who miss him terribly."

"That's tragic." Strand says. My face beats red in fury. "Look, don't make me out to be the bad guy. That's how this works. Save yourself, kids. Let others drop behind. It's easier that way."

He sets the key into the lock of the next gate, and slides it open. _"The key is not one size fits all," my ass._ Strand continues through the open door, slow enough for us to catch up but quick enough to understand he won't wait.

I'm forced to make a choice. _Well, not exactly. The choice is made for me_. With hands tightening to fists at my side, I turn and kneel back down to Scott's height. "I have to go, bud."

His hands tighten their grip on the fence, shaking it gently. "Tina, _no_ —"

"I know, Scott." My voice wavers, bottom lip trembling as I fight back tears. "I don't want to go without you, but you'll be fine, okay? It's safe here, and they'll let you go back home when you're ready, and you'll see Rhea again, and—"

"T," I hear behind me, soft. A hand goes to my shoulder, resting it gently to bring me back to reality. _Fuck, don't cry_. I ignore the sting from my sunburn and set my hand atop Nick's, gripping it tightly as my throat chokes up. "Time to go."

"Yeah." It's barely audible. My other hand palms away a few escaped tears before I sniffle. "Yeah, time to go."

I pull up from the ground, dropping Nick's hand in one swift motion, and turn away from Scott and his cage. I can't look at him; if I do, I'll start sobbing. "Good luck, Scott. You'll be just fine." Quickly pacing myself, I walk to the door of the compound, Nick following behind me silently.

"Tina." Scott calls. I scrunch my eyes shut, forcing myself to take a shaky breath. "Tina, please!"

 _One more step_.

"Tina, don't leave me!"

 _Keep walking_.

The fence rattles behind me; I can imagine Scott gripping it in his tiny little hands and shaking it. "Tina! I want to see my family! _PLEASE_! _TINA_!"

Nick closes the door behind us so Scott's cries are muffled, but they still reverberate in my mind. _I don't think I'll ever be able to get his screams out of my head. I'm so sorry, Scott_.

We catch up to Strand fairly quickly. _If we didn't need his expertise, I'd choke the life out of him right then and there_.

"So," Nick forces himself to take a breath. I can tell he's just as mad as I am, but there's nothing we can do. "Where are we going?"

"We need a ride." Strand tells us.

"And then?" I question.

"Abigail."

Nick and I share a look of confusion. He voices it for the two of us as we walk through the opening. "Who the hell's Abigail?"

No response.

"Left." Strand leads us to a hallway, lowly dimmed with flashing lights. Dull blue paint covers the walls, each door is white, and a brown carpet covers the floor. In the caged room, we couldn't hear much over the cries of the masses. Here, the awful sound of an alarm blaring is clear as day.

"Did the dead break through?" I ask curiously.

"I'm assuming." Strand answers. "Can't be another explanation. Right."

We take the turn, not saying anything else. _Shit._

The distant sound of gunfire is added to the alarms, making my suspicion sound true.

 _ **Shit.**_

The journey through identical hallways three through five is silent between us. Nick and I follow, Strand leads.

The only hiccup we have is passing through hall six, where we need to pass a set of stairs leading up and down one level. Just as we begin to go through, the beam of a flashlight shines through the window of the door, and the sound of gunfire blares down one of the stairwells.

Strand pushes Nick down another hallway with a hand, flush against the wall. In turn, Nick's arm does the same to me, holding me tight as we push as close to the wall as possible. The air is knocked out of my lungs as his grip on my waist holds tight, but I understand. I'm fucking _terrified._

We wait in stunned silence for a few minutes, waiting for whoever it is to either kill the dead or become one. Strand cautiously peeks over the edge of the hallway, looming over to the window. Once he deems it safe, he beckons Nick and me to follow again.

In the span of three seconds, we open the door leading to the stairs, run through the open area, and close the door on the other side. _Okay, awesome. Just ignore the pounding in your chest. You're fine._

I take a deep breath through my nose as we continue down the new hallway. They all look exactly the same. If we didn't pass the stair area, I would've thought we were running in circles. I faintly hear a beep behind us as we press on, this hallway leading to an open room. _An admissions area?_

It certainly looks like a waiting room. This open concept area, with two distinct levels meeting in the way of a ramp and a small set of wide stairs, seemed to have been important. Many dead bodies cover the floor; men in the signature camouflage of the US army. _The gunshots._ A fight took place here.

"Shit!" Nick curses, pulling me backwards, away from the dead. I barely register his hands on my sides as I fully take in the scene before me.

Some have already turned. I can hear the moans and see twitching limbs. Some of the original turned survived the onslaught and feast on the entrails of those who should _long_ be dead. I can't even muster enough energy to gasp, or cover my mouth in shock, or even pull away from Nick's grasp. My eyes, glassy, stare at the dead. _This is what the world is now. Live with it._

"You okay?"

The gentle words register slowly, and I look up to Nick's eyes. I open my mouth to speak, to say I'm fine, but nothing comes out. _I'm not. I'm not fine._ I shake my head, and one of his hands cradle the back of my neck, pulling me close to his chest. I don't pull away.

The shift in movement behind him gets my attention, though, and I twist my head to watch Strand take a few tentative steps to one of the dead men.

"Are you crazy, man?!" Nick hisses. "What are you doing?"

"It's alright." Strand says softly. "They're slow."

 _Are they?_ The only ones I've seen were Susan Tran and crater-face back at the Clarke house.

Strand takes a few tentative steps toward a particular soldier on the ground, his leg being chewed by one of the dead. His eyes are still wide with terror, and he twitches in pain. _He's still alive._

"Strand." He manages. "Stran- _ah_ , please, Strand."

I gag as I hear the blood cuddle in his throat. There's a huge bite mark in his neck, a stream of blood flowing through and making the muscle movements very visible.

"Don't look." Nick gently twists us so I can't see the soldier, but I protest.

"No." I say, but I can't meet his eyes. "Let me see it."

 _This is the world now. Learn it. Don't hide from it. Become it.  
_

Strand pulls something out of the dying man's pocket—cuff links?—and tells him, "Keep the watch."

"Kill me." The soldier gurgles.

Strand leans close to him. "You're well on your way."

 _Fuck, what did this guy do to get on Strand's bad side?_

"Shit." Nick mutters, pulling away quickly. "Strand!"

And I see what he's talking about. A door on the other side of the room breaks down, and pouring into the room is over two dozen infected. _Shit. Shit!_

"How do we get out of here now?" I ask quickly.

"Fantastic question." Strand replies. He ruffles through the dying man's hunting knife sheath from the strap on his side, quickly finding a set of keys. "Melvin was my ride." He also grabs the handgun by Melvin's side, briefly checking the ammunition before snapping it shut and stuffing it in his waistband.

Strand takes the lead again as he barges through the door leading back to the hallway. No slow, deliberate movements this time around. We run, _run_ , through the hallway, all the way to the door leading to the stairs. I expect it to be easy for us; push the metal bar to unlock it, just like we did last time.

Instead, I'm met with immense force.

The wind is knocked out of me as I shove my whole side on the door, and my shoulder burns in immense pain. Nick and Strand beside me have the same response.

"No." I gasp. My fingers haphazardly shove the bar, desperately trying to unlock the mechanism. The sound of dozens undead growling grows louder behind us as we try to open the door. Then I remember the beep I heard behind us when we first got in. _It manually_ _ **locked.**_ _We need ID. Fuck!_

"No!" I nearly cry in frustration, my voice high-pitched at the realization.

"That's unfortunate." Strand says, trying to keep his voice calm, but failing as it quivers. He goes to another door nearby, jiggling the handle as Nick body slams his whole side into the door a good ten times. I follow Strand's train of thought on my side; I try another door close by, but the next set is too far close to the dead for me to attempt.

 _We're stuck. Oh god, we're gonna die._

In desperation, Strand yanks out the gun he grabbed earlier, aiming it at one of the dead and shooting. He barely hits the chest of what used to be a man. The third bullet manages to get the head, but there's too many to take pot shots at.

 _We're going to die._

I don't want to die. But we're going to die.

"Mom! Mom!" Nick shouts behind me, banging his hand by the window through the door. I run back to the door, taking the right side as I gaze through it.

Madison, Travis, Ophelia, Daniel. Friendly faces. They all run to the door on their side, Madison closest to us when she runs up, screaming, "Nick! Nick! Open it!"

"It's locked!" I scream out.

"Travis, open it!" Madison commands in fear. Travis pulls a heavy-looking wrench to the locking mechanism on the wall, trying to bust it open. "We'll get you out! Nick!"

Travis' effort seems to have no effect on the goddamn door, and the dead amble dangerously close to us. _Fuck. Fuck!_

"Look out Nick! They're coming!" Madison bashes on her side of the door with an axe, but it does nothing. _This damn lock. So effective, so deadly._ "No, no!"  
The dead are close, too close. The door won't open.

 _We're going to die._

"Alycia." My voice is soft as I look to Ophelia. "Tell her I love her, okay?"

Ophelia looks to me, wide-eyed and terrified, but gives a grave nod. _My bloody dying wish._

Madison screams out, banging her axe fiercely against the door in vain, and Nick places his hand on the window. "Mom. Go." He nods to her, giving permission. _Save yourselves._

 _This is where we die._

"MADISON, MOVE!" Liza bursts through the first set of doors on the stairs, pushing through the crowd and getting to the locking mechanism. She swipes her ID through it with vigor. The damn thing beeps, but a soft red glows.

"Hurry!" Madison screams.

"It's not working!" Liza screams back. She slides her ID again. Again, and again. Red, red, red.

Then green.

"OPEN IT _NOW_!" She demands, and Nick, Strand, and I push through the door with lightning speed.

 _Oh my god. Oh my god, we did it._

Just as Strand pops out Travis tries to shut the door, but the dead overpower him. _Too bloody many._

"Down!" Liza instructs, and we listen and shuffle down the stairs at a speed I didn't think possible. _Safe. Not completely, but safe._

The new room at the end of the staircase is the kitchen. Stoves, fridges, microwaves, cabinets full of cans and MRE's flood my vision. The prepping tables, along with every other item of use in this room, are a dull silver. The only pop of color is the food packaging, spices, and plates.

"Oh, gracias a Dios." I vaguely hear behind me, and then a warm pair of hands turn and envelop me. Ophelia.

I hug her back tightly, still shaking from the shock. I quietly hum to whatever she said, and a smile beams on my face. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." She replies, giving one last squeeze before pulling me at an arm's length. "Have you seen mama at all? Any idea where she is?" I notice Daniel a few steps behind us, his gaze on me as the two Salazar's await my response.

Ruefully I shake my head. "No, I'm sorry. I was in the cages with Nick and Strand before hell broke loose." I wait a beat before adding, "Was that you?"

Ophelia nods. "We needed to get you all back, no matter what."

We share a quiet moment together, finally taking a breath. Then she screams, "Move!" before lifting up the wrench in her hands. I immediately pull to the side with a squeak as she brings the wrench down heavily to one of the undead, bashing its skull before it drops to the floor in a heap.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Ophelia pants out, and another scream grabs our attention. _Liza._

Ophelia runs over (as she's the one with the weapon,) and whacks at the dead that pushed Liza against a prep table. _Where the hell are they coming from?_

I shift my gaze around the open room, giving it a once-over. There's definitely the stream from upstairs that we narrowly missed. Some are shambling down the steps, but Strand takes them out slowly with his gun to keep the threat low. None could get past him without us knowing. _Where are they coming from?_

Short answer: everywhere.

Long answer: since this bloody kitchen is for a huge building, it makes sense that this open-concept room, with _**no doors**_ , is fucking huge. The infected have easy access to us. Could be one trickling in from the left, and three dozen on the right. I don't know. All I am certain of is that we are _not_ safe.

"Where do we go?" Travis asks Liza. She shifts around, searching the different directions and hoping to find the right way.

As if we aren't surrounded _enough_ by the dead, the unmistakable threat of grinding teeth and groans sounds a few feet to my right. In that general vicinity is Strand, taking shots into the crowd of undead on the stairs, but this one is on our level. Not the stairs. Not in front of Strand. Behind him.

"Shit, Strand!" I scream to him. I can't let him die. _What do I do?_

In a split-second I look to the tools on the silver prep table. _Knife set, okay._ Tongs. Two spatulas. My hand fumbles for one of the knives in the set, but I quickly note that one: I would need to get very close to the monster. Two: I don't even know if this is strong enough to break through undead human skull.

Then I look above me. Pans. Big, small, and in between all on their own separate books, hanging proudly.

I grab the biggest one I see and barely register the weight in my hands. Like I'm about to swing to hit a baseball, I pull my arms back as far as I can, then _SLAM_ the undead's skull with the built-up momentum.

The mess of pale gray skin and coagulated blood splatter to the back of the pan as the body staggers backward. It's close to losing balance, but it manages to keep on its feet.

 _Fuck. Gross._

I pull the pan away from its face and repeat the motion, growling at the intensity of the second swing. Then the third. By the fourth it's on its knees, skull caved in by the forehead. Deep breaths are all I focus on once I know it's dead.

 _Shit. I just killed someone. Granted, they're already dead, but_ _ **fuck**_ _._

With one hand I let the pan swing in my hand at waist-length, panting heavily. My sunburned arms ache from the heavy movement. _That took a lot of energy. Shit._

Strand pulls away from the stairs and grabs at one of the smaller prep tables on wheels, parking it in front of the crowd. It also helps that the dead bodies he's created leave a small but effective barrier for the rest of the undead by the top. He tells me, "I knew I saw something in you."

"You didn't," is the immediate response. The pan clutters to the floor in between us, a loud _CLANG!_ reverberating around the room. "Don't try to sell that point. I was an _obligation._ Don't forget it."

"I won't." He almost sounds earnest. "Thank you."

With a huff I turn away from him and focus joining the rest of my group. Strand follows quickly behind, keen to leave the undead masses as much as me.

"Over here, guys!" Liza calls to us from the far corner of the room. "C'mon! Run!"

 _Thank god._

We pull through a set of wide swinging doors that I assume constitute as the main entrance for the food bussers and wait staff. The door goes to a small hallway that brings us to another wide room.

"Where's Chris?" Liza asks Travis as we push through some heavy-set office equipment.

"He's safe." Travis answers. As a group we book it behind the pair, keeping up as Liza leads us. I have no idea where, but _anywhere_ sounds fantastic.

"WHERE?"

"Outside the compound with Alycia." I sigh in relief hearing Alycia's safe. _At least two of us are._ "We got to find another way out of here now."

"We get back to the medical ward." Liza explains fast as we near the end of the room and push through another door. "We get back there. Exner will know."

For safe measures, the swinging doors we close behind us have a mop set between the bars, acting as a forceful barrier. Strand's the one to shove it in and make sure it'll hold, as he is the direct back of the group.

"Who the hell are you?" Madison asks him, pulling slightly away from the rest of us. Daniel takes the front by Liza as they trudge down a set of stairs.

"This is Strand." Nick answers. "He saved our lives."

"Niceties later, living _now!_ " I hiss to them and wave my hand forward to point down the stairs. Most of us are already sprinting down the steps. Madison nods and they pick up the pace.

The next area we go through is the remnants of a locker room. The room is disgustingly filthy; mold visibly grows in the corners. Some lockers are pushed over and leaning on one another. Some are opened with doors swinging; others bent, some still locked. The stench is _awful._

I press ahead to the front, wanting _out_ as quick as possible.

Thankfully, we don't stay long. The room is right beside what Liza and the other doctors use as a med bay. The room itself is vast and impressive; there are _huge_ glass units of medication and medical equipment when we first walk into it. The cabinets are a good nine feet high, _and_ the inside is lit up in blue under the medicine bottles. Transporting medical equipment is all over the floor, too. Vital sign machines, small x-ray units, and other machines my brain can't comprehend are _everywhere._

Dead bodies are, too.

I'm guessing these were the people Liza worked on, as her mouth stood agape in shock. Each patient has a small hole in their temples, blood slowly seeping onto their beds from it.

 _Fuck._

The only person alive is the doctor that took Griselda and Nick from the house two days ago, who I'm assuming is Exner. She sits on the edge of an occupied bed beside a dead army man. She holds another piece of medical equipment in her hands; I can't describe it much. It seems to be an oxygen tank, pressurized to be released from a handheld gun. From the gun-looking piece she's holding, I have no doubt it's what made the holes in all these soldiers.

Madison immediately jogs to one of the open cabinets and reads the labels of pill bottles. What she deems important she shoves into the backpack previously slung over her shoulder. I run to her and scan my eyes over the medical bandages, isopropyl alcohol containers, and first aid equipment on the desk close by. I rack my brain to remember the EMT book from mum and dad's room. _What's most important here?_

I get my hands on the last sealed isopropyl alcohol container and shove it to Madison, who in turn shoves it into her pack. Then I grab as many sealed sterile gauze packets as I can and squish them in my pockets. Finger splints, ACE bandages, and slings go into Madison's bag. Two rolls of medical tape and a set of medical shears. I rummage through the desk drawers and grab a couple EPI pens and small, loose alcohol preps.

"… You can get out." I hear Exner say, and Madison and I stop rummaging around the room before making eye contact. We come to the same conclusion. _This will have to do._

Travis pulls to the door, and we slowly trickle behind him as he pushes it open. Liza stays behind a moment, looking to Exner's tired form.

"Come with us." Liza offers. "There are people you can still help."

Madison gently pads over, resting a hand on Liza's shoulder. "Liza. We have to go." She leans to Liza's ear and whispers, "She's lost."

Ruefully, Liza pulls away and the two trudge back to us. We pull back through the locker room, (ew,) and head east of the building, where Exner said was safe.

"So, what's the master plan?" Strand strides to Madison and asks. "Assuming one exists?"

"What'd'you mean?" Madison responds, tone bored and mind otherwise occupied.

"Have you decided on a destination; an end point?"

"We're heading east. The desert. Should be safe there."

"It's not." He quickly replies. We trot down a few steps and Madison turns to look at him.

"And what do you suggest, Mr. Strand?" She politely snaps.

"Go west." He answers smoothly. _Why, Strand?_

"What's west?"

"I have a home on the water."

 _Oh, a boat! That's actually an amazing idea._ The cogs turn in my head. We could fish on the boat, so we'd have food. Away from the land, so away from the undead. Never-ending supply of water that we can purify. _It's perfect, honestly!_

"I have supplies." Strand adds. "I'm prepared."

Madison's stare back at him is unreadable. She doesn't want to, that's for sure. But I think she's weighing the pros and cons just as much as I am.

Then she turns away without a response. Conversation over; back to finding a way out.

Travis pushes through one last door on our right, and sunlight peers through. _Oh, sun, how I've missed you!_

I turn my head to the sky, closing my eyes as the morning rays gently beat on my face. Sadly, I turn away after a moment. My poor skin is still _very_ burnt. Experimentally my index finger goes to the tip of my nose, and my skin protests at the motion. _It's so warm and stiff. Bollocks._

As I clear my head and follow the group, my eyes land on gigantic piles of dust, positioned a few feet away to our left. Smoke comes off the top of the piles, billowing in the dry breeze.

I stop in my tracks as soon as I note the circular shape in the dust pile.

It's not dust—it's _bones._

Burned bodies. These are burned bodies. More skulls, femurs, feet and hands protrude among the pile. _No._

There's more piles as I walk through the yard. Everywhere. What's worse is there's a forklift by one of the piles, dust still inside it. No, not dust— _ashes._

I faintly hear the sound of sobbing behind me, and I turn to see Ophelia crying by one of the piles. Daniel brings an arm around her comfortingly. Not smothering, but supporting. It clicks in my head that her mother must have not made it. _I'm so sorry, love._

I leave the two alone and scurry to meet with the rest of the group. We find a garage opening marked, " **A1** ," and Travis runs inside.

"Chris?" He yells out, his voice echoing in the empty space. There are about a dozen cars inside, all spread out. I try to find any vehicle that looks like Madison's, or a truck like Travis', but my eyes fail me.

"Alycia?" Madison calls out. "Where's the car? Did they leave?"

"Oh, no." Travis murmurs, worry growing. "Chris?! Alycia?!" Madison joins in, calling out for the two before Daniel comes into the garage.

"Lower your voices!" He says to Travis. "The dead will hear you, they will come."

Travis all but pushes him aside as he calls out for his son. Liza calls out, too, and I start hollering for Alycia.

"We're here!" Alycia answers, and the supply closet door busts open. She and Chris scramble out and run over to the rest of us.

 _Oh, thank god._

I can barely register the words that come from both parties. Madison, Travis, and Liza all run to meet their kids in the middle, and all are nearly crushed in tight hugs.

Chris tries to explain what happened to the car. I process the words, "Soldiers. Took. SUV." one at a time. It's a troublesome thing, and a very big issue, but I'm so glad that Alycia and Chris are safe that it outweighs the problem.

"Okay, we must go now." Daniel instructs. And while the parents don't want to cut their reunion short, he's right. We still need to hotwire a car and head east/west, wherever the fuck.

Just as Travis and the others begin to pull up to Daniel, I hear the sound of a gun cock behind me.

"SALAZAR!" A rough, cracked voice bellows out.

I whip around to the voice, and a very rough-looking soldier has a handgun pointed straight at Daniel's head. Cuts and bruises litter his form, and his arm is heavily wrapped in gauze. _Bloody hell, bloke._ I want to say he looks familiar, but I don't remember him so injured.

The happy mood immediately flips to fear, and we all slink a few steps back. Ophelia, lying against a support beam on the ground by her father, quietly calls out, "Andy?"

 _Oh!_ Andrew Adams from the, "Safe Zone." Her kinda-sorta boyfriend. What the hell happened to him?

"Andy." She repeats, and she stands up. She takes a few cautious steps forward to get close to her father. "Andy, hey."

"Ophelia." Daniel barks. He holds a hand out behind him, willing her to stay away.

"Andrew." Ophelia says softly. She brings her hands up and gently tries to reason with him. "Put the gun down. You don't have to do this, okay?"

I feel a hand wrap around my wrist from behind and pull me backward, farther away from Andy. I'd recognize the soft skin anywhere. Alycia.

I take a few backwards steps, taking a place in between her and Nick as we watch, terrified. Her hand grasps at my own tightly as she shrinks into her mother's side. _Fuck._

"What are you doing?" Ophelia asks Andy. "Just put the gun down."

He doesn't. He keeps his stance rigid as he brings his other hand to the gun, steadying his grip.

"Andrew, _please don't do this._ " She begs. "Please, please, please."

"Andy." She says one last time, and he twists the gun at her.

And he shoots.

I jump at the noise, and Daniel screams, and Ophelia falls to the ground.

 _NO! Not Ophelia! Not my friend._

My grip tightens on Alycia's hand, and I let out a whimper of shock. _Please be okay._

Multiple things happen at once. Travis runs to Andy, side-checking him to the ground. The gun flies away from Andy's hands, and Travis begins to _beat him down._ Not just one strong punch to knock out. No; he pummels into Andy. Fist after fist, connecting to anything he can hit. Face, nose, jaw, chin. Blood pours from newly formed cuts, covering everything from Andy's face to the pavement beneath to the tan brown skin of Travis' knuckles.

Liza runs to Ophelia on the ground as Daniel drops to his knees beside her, looking at the fresh wound. I will myself to look at her. _It wasn't her face_ , I remind myself. She can still be fine.

And _thank the fucking lord_ , she is. It's her shoulder, and she's most definitely in pain, but she's still alive.

"Tina, you want to learn first aid?" Liza calls from her spot on the ground. "Hands on NOW, let's go!"

I let go of Alycia and nearly burst from my spot to the ground beside Ophelia, but before I do I yank Madison's backpack off her shoulder.

"Okay, okay, what do we need?" I say in one breath. I try to ignore the shaking in my fingers, and blur out Ophelia's pained moans.

"Step one, I need you to lift her shoulder. Is there an exit wound?" Liza instructs. Her voice is very steady, along with her eye contact. _Breathe._

Gently I pull at the top of Ophelia's shoulder, and she cries out. I repeat the phrase, "I'm sorry," at least a dozen times as I pull her up just a little more. Sure enough, there's a hole in her skin on this end, too. "Yes. Next?"

"Next, okay. We sit her up." Ophelia mumbles in protest, but Liza shushes her. "I know, I know it hurts but trust me, okay?" Gently, the three of us pull her in a sitting position, with Ophelia's head lolling against Daniel's chest in support. "We elevate the wound above the heart so there's less pressure and less blood loss. If it was in her leg-"

"We would put a pillow or stand underneath it so it's above the heart level and resting, I remember the diagram." I say quickly. She jerks a couple nods to me, saying "good," before I ask, "What's next?"

"Remember those gauze pads you grabbed in the med unit?" Liza continues to instruct. "Rip 'em open and apply pressure to both sides. What kind of medicine did you grab?"

"I-I don't know." I mutter quickly. "Madison grabbed them. They're in the bag." My hands go to my pockets and yank out as many packets as I can. Then I grab one and rip it open, repeating the process and placing the pieces on Ophelia's chest first. Daniel follows suit, taking as many as he can and pressing them to the back wound. Liza takes the backpack and rummages around the pill bottles before ripping the lid off one and gently forcing Ophelia to take two white pills.

"Antibiotics—" Liza waits for my answer.

"Fight infection." I reply. She nods in approval.

I'm so wrapped up in Ophelia that I never notice Travis nearly killing Andy. I don't notice the rest of the group hot-wiring two cars, an SUV and a truck, and then packing our gear and telling us to move.

I hop in the back of the truck with Daniel, Ophelia, and Liza without a second thought. _Thank god she'll be okay._

* * *

Strand's house is _huge_ and by the water. Not that I'm surprised. He carries himself as a rich man; he has reason to.

He tells us to park the cars by what I'm assuming is his front door. This piece of the house has walls with a beautiful brick design, but I can see from here that he has floor to ceiling glass windows on the corner by the water. _Damn. Rich bitch._

I hop out the truck's bed first, opening the flap and offering my hand to Liza to help her down. She takes it, and somehow manages to jump down gracefully.

"You go ahead."

I raise an eyebrow. "You sure?"

She nods as Daniel begins a slow descent of sitting and scooting down. "Yeah. We can take care of her from here. You learned a lot and helped just as much. Thank you, Tina."

I nod back to her, adding a, "Thank _you_ , Liza," and turn back to the house, following Strand, the Clarkes, and the Manawa's to the front door.

 _Woah._

His house is _beautiful_ inside. It's very open concept; not many doors. The general color scheme of the house is black surfaces, such as countertops, fridge, stairway, and chairs. Silver accents for general decor provides a chic contrast, and a sandy colored wall goes throughout the house. His couch in the living room is gold. _Very posh. Mum would have loved this place._

"Anyone hungry?" Strand announces, striding into the kitchen. "Help yourselves."

Daniel and Ophelia head straight for the couch, setting her down in the corner so she can rest. Liza hands Daniel a pack of dressings, telling the two to change them on a daily schedule and to take the antibiotics that Madison grabbed. They murmur many thanks.

Alycia grabs at the shiny black fridge in the kitchen, searching for food. I follow close behind and give her a crushing bear hug.

"I missed you." I squeal.

She holds me back just as tightly. "I missed you, too."

I pull her to an arm's length, smiling. My brain flies back to the moment behind the locked door. And it's silly, I know, but I just need to say it to her. To my best friend, one of the most important people in my life. "I love you."

Alycia smiles back, a kind chuckle escaping her. "I know. I love you, too."

Chris rummages in the dark wooden cabinets for a cup and fills one to the brim with tap water. _Oh, that's a good idea. Water sounds like heaven._

I let go of Alycia and head to the cabinet with the cups, grabbing the tallest I can find, filling it, and nearly downing the thing in one sip. I hum contently, thankful, and go back for more. _Just half this time. Damn, I was thirsty._

"Want a popsicle?" Alycia asks. She finds strawberry ones in the freezer, and I nod eagerly. She pulls a couple out for us.

The back of my hand wipes against my lips and cheek, and I find resistance against the movement. When I put my hand in front of my face, dried, dark red covers my skin. _Blood._

I don't realize I've said it out loud until Alycia nods. "Yeah, you have some on you. Go wash up."

I nod back to her, adding, "Chris, you can have my pop," before going down a small hallway past the kitchen.

"Strand," I call out, quickly searching before finding his bedroom in the middle door on the right. When I step inside the doorframe, no further, my eyes note the absence of personal items. His bed is made neat, desk kept clean, and two paintings hanging on opposite walls. But there are no pictures of family; no old, nostalgic items on the desk. It makes the room colder than I thought it was. _In fact, it's been empty throughout the whole house. Maybe mum wouldn't like it as much as I thought._

I pull myself out of my thoughts and look to him by his open closet door. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Other hallway, past the living room. First door on the left, you'll see it immediately." He directs. "There's some Aloe in the cabinet behind the mirror, if you're interested."

"Thanks."

Making the necessary changes in direction, I quickly trek to the bathroom door, slightly ajar. Without much thought I push it all the way open. _I'm an idiot. Why don't I ever knock?_

Vowing to knock on closed or cracked open doors forever, I quietly greet Nick. "Hi."

"Hey." He answers. He's in front of the square mirror in front of a beautiful marble countertop sink, a wet, white rag in hand. Well, _used to be_ white; he's cleaning off blood, too, so it's become pinker with use.

I'm silent as I head to the mirror and swing it open, finding a small lotion bottle-sized Aloe, with the cap on the bottom. Then I close the door, and nearly gasp at my reflection.

The burn isn't what shocks me. I knew I'd be red; I'm paying for staying out in the sun, whatever. But the _blood_ … There's a lot more than I was expecting.

Truth be told, it's not _actually_ much. There's a splatter of it everywhere; little droplets covering portions of my cheeks and a couple dots on my nose. It's more congealed by my right ear, when I first swung the pan down on the dead and its head exploded.

My hand goes to the mess of blood by my ear. It's hardly sticky now. Just dry. _Gross._ It serves as reminder that I killed someone today. _I don't like it._ When I bring my hand to the edge of the sink, I try to ignore the shaking in my fingers.

Nick's eyes capture mine through the mirror. He takes a cautious step to me and presses the hand towel into my open palm. "Here." He says, voice soft. "I'm done with it."

I nod as a quiet thanks and put more water on it, letting it soak before I furiously rub at my features. Then I cry a little at the irritation against my sunburnt skin. _Fine. Slow and steady wins the race._

Slowly this time, I take the cloth and rub soft circles near my ear, then my cheeks, and atop my nose. _There, better._ Next time I check my reflection I look human again. Good.

I turn around to look at Nick, and he genuinely looks better than he has the past few days. _Healthier._ His skin, no longer ashen and pale. His cheeks, a rosy hue. No more sunken eyes. He looks good; like himself again. Like the Nick I first met when I moved to L.A. and Alycia introduced us.

I guess I stare at him a moment too long, because he asks, "What? There something on my face?"

I give a halfhearted chuckle. "No, you just…" I try to think of the words. "You look like yourself again."

He shrugs. "I feel like myself again."

Then I notice a small tinge of pink on his chin. "Oh, you missed a spot."

I take a tentative step forward and place my hand on his cheek, gently moving him so I can get a better view of the splotch. I try not to burn under his gaze as I take the hand towel and rub a small circle against the blood, quickly cleaning it off. It's small—only takes a second to wipe off. The rational part of my brain tells me to walk away when it's done. The other part keeps me still, my hand perched on his cheek like it's frozen.

His hand wraps around mine holding the towel, and I look up to him curiously. Nick's chocolate brown orbs stare into my green, and his lips press against mine.

He's kissing me.

 _Oh god, he's kissing me._

And for that one precious moment, everything melts away. We're just two stupid teens; there's no undead monsters, my friend's not shot and hurt, I never killed anyone, we're not in a stranger's house seeking shelter. We're just Tina and Nick, and we're kissing each other like its air and we need it to survive.

He pulls away slowly, hand cradling my cheek, eyes searching my expression. A silent, " _Was that okay?"_ To answer, my hand drops the towel and pulls him back, crashing my lips against his with a fury I didn't know I had.

My hands find their way to Nick's neck and down his shoulders, pulling him to my height as I press my front against him. One of his hand's snakes to the back of my neck, cradling it to properly kiss me again, the other wrapping around my side to keep me close against his chest.

My brain, in a haze of thoughtlessness, vaguely realizes he's pushing me against the sink, trapping me. The cold marble of it is striking in contrast at the hot flare I feel running through my veins, each nerve lit up and blasting. My hands grip the edge tightly, a tether to reality.

I smile when he pulls away, both of us breathless, but chuckling softly. Nick rests his forehead against mine, breaths intermingling before he lowly kisses me again. His hand grips tightly at my waist, possessively, as mine go to cradle his face mid-kiss.

Then his tongue glides along my bottom lip, asking for entrance, and my rational thoughts come flooding back. The past few days, Never Have I Ever, him using again.

And just when his tongue slips into my mouth I pull away ruefully, panting out his name breathlessly. "Nick, stop."

"Stop?" He repeats, as if he's trying to get his brain working again. "Sorry, too fast?"

" _Stop_." I ruefully push his chest, sending him back a couple paces. I turn quickly, rigid as I walk to the door—the furthest away I can be from him—so I don't look at Nick; I can't look at his piercing gaze or his swollen lips, because I _know_ if I do, I'll end up kissing him again.

"I-I'm sorry." Nick apologizes, sounding confused. "Did I read the signs wrong, or-?"

"No, no you didn't." I assure him, willing myself to be strong as I turn back.

"Then I… I don't see why-?"

"Because, Nick." I stutter as I try to get my thoughts out. "Because it might not be real."

He furrows his brows, and I run my hands through my hair as I try to explain. "Look, these past two weeks, they've been great with you. But then two, three days ago soldiers pound on the door saying you've been using again. And hearing this, I just thought—I _keep_ thinking—"

I look up at him, desperately hoping he sees my point. "How do I know if you really want _me_ , or if you're just lonely? If it was just the drugs talking? I'm not entertainment, y'know, and _you_ might not even realize what you're doing, but…"

 _Bollocks._ My voice goes an octave quieter as I add, "I don't want to be another Gloria. I want this, I want _us_ , to be real."

And _praise all the deities in the sky_ , he answers with, "Okay." And he takes a breath. "So, how do I prove to you that this is real?"

My mind makes a thousand different calculations to try to answer that question. _What would?_

"Seven days." I say with vigor. "Seven days, we try not to talk to each other. We try to stay apart. After seven days, if you still feel the same, if I feel the same…" I take a quick huff of air. "Then we go from there."

I look up to him, waiting for his response. "Deal?"

Tentatively, I hold my hand out for him to shake. The three seconds that pass utterly terrify me. But he nods, and gives a proper shake. "Deal."

He passes by me to the door and join the others, swinging the door halfway open to leave. But before he does, he turns back to me, a small smirk on his face. "Day one."

I just smile in response. When the door closes behind him, I release the biggest huff of air to recharge my thoughts. My hands messily run through my hair not once, twice, but three times in hopes I could get them to stop shaking.

My eyes land on the Aloe bottle, completely forgotten in the past five minutes.

I shake the confusing thoughts out of my head, but I'm still smiling as I pop open the bottle and squirt a bit onto my hands.

* * *

Once I'm lathered up in Aloe and deem myself presentable I leave the bathroom, bottle in hand. No way in hell am I leaving this behind when we get on Strand's boat.

I plop myself beside Ophelia and Daniel on the couch. I offer a smile, and she gives me a pained one in response.

Then we hear a gunshot. It rings loudly throughout the house, striking fear through everyone.

Alycia and Chris, originally eating their frozen pops contently, run through the sliding door in the living room. I pop from the couch and follow close behind, hopping down spray painted rocks and through patches of sand to get on the beach. It's doesn't take long to reach Travis, Madison, and Liza.

The next sound I hear is Chris crying. Sobbing. Wailing.

His hands fists Liza's scrub top, clutching so tightly that his knuckles go white. The fabric crinkles with the movement, the blood of the undead stiff and dry, but the _new_ blood? _Her_ blood. It's everywhere; trickling down her face, into the sand, into her clothes…

I've seen so many dead today. So many infected trampling upon each other, so many piles of ashes and bones. I guess I just didn't think it could be one of us. One of our group ending with a bullet in their skull.

It can.

 _Welcome to the new world, Cristina Anne Waters._

 _Get used to it._

* * *

 _A/N: Woo hoo! All done with season one! That was a rollercoaster ride from start to finish, huh?_

 _Just so you all know, I've had that kiss written out since, maybe watching season two when it first aired. What'd you think about it-the kiss and the seven day wait? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know in a review or PM!_

 _Next chapter starts the second season, the seven day count, and a whole new storyline I'm excited to write about. I can't wait :)_


	9. Chapter 9: Honorary Pirates

_A/N: All right! I have two chapters coming out today for this, so you're all in for a treat! We're finally in season two, living on the Abigail. Then the hotel. It's gonna be great, guys. I can't wait until after my last couple of exams are done for college, that way I can solely focus on writing. Soon! So close._

* * *

"We go at dark."

Strand gives the order. Considering we're all still in shock, none fight back. We agree, that's the better thing to do. It'd be harder to watch us if anyone is.

Then dusk comes, and the darkness grows. We notice the helicopters flying above us when we pack up Strand's food, water, and as many medical supplies and extra items we can stuff into our bags. We hear the beat of their propellers, dozens of them at once while we rummage around Strand's house. What we don't know is what they're carrying.

Bombs.

The military-grade choppers drop dozens upon dozens of bombs and missiles, raining in the distance. They're taking us out methodically. Start as close inland as possible, then spread out as they begin to reach the water.

Thankfully we have enough time to pack up, and Strand teaches Nick how to drive a small raft out to the Abigail. He only has one, so we're forced to take two trips. The first contains me, Nick, Alycia, Ophelia, Daniel, and of course Strand. Next ride will have Madison, Travis, Chris, Liza's body, and the heavy cargo. The ride is quiet, except for Strand's orders to Nick as he navigates us to the boat.

That, and the crackling sound of the bombs and the fires left behind. Nighttime normally calms me; I love looking up at the stars and moon in the dark sky.

Tonight, it's not dark. I' angry and red and aflame. It's wrong.

We're all silent as Strand and Nick temporarily tether the small raft to the Abigail, and we hop off quickly. I'm floored by how large the boat is. _Well, not, "boat." It's a yacht._ Still, though, this is my first time being on one so large and with decently developed technology. The only other boat I've been on is one my father took me fishing on when we went on vacation in the fifth grade. _This bloody yacht could hold a good thousand of those._

Alycia and I make quick work of yanking our bags and throwing them into a large, dark room, that I'm sure constitutes as the main living area of the whole thing. A large, elegantly set dinner table is further in the darkness, along with two sets of stairs; one large set leads deeper down into the whole ship, and a curved set leads upwards. The closest thing to me is a set of brown couches and a glass table, illuminated in red through the vast set of windows surrounding the whole area. _Those couches will do._

I quickly throw down a couple suitcases onto the single seater near the door. Ophelia and Daniel go to the couch opposite me as Alycia sets another bunch of bags down around the single seater. I grab the last one and heave it on the ground beside Ophelia before hearing the sound of quick footsteps.

It's only one pair, and they're Nick's. He hops back onto the raft by himself, pulling the tether and twisting the device so he heads back to shore alone.

My hand grabs at Alycia's shoulder, concerned. "Why is he alone? Shouldn't Strand have gone with him?"

Alycia shrugs, but her eyes are following the raft until it's far out of sight. "I dunno. Plans change."

My stomach churns with each passing moment. I knew it would take a bit, but should it really be _this long?_

"Where are they?" I question quietly, as if Alycia knew. She shrugs her shoulders again, eyes staring back to shore in worry.

Daniel pulls up behind us with his shotgun in hand and Ophelia by his side, ready for anything. I don't see any dead near us, but you never know nowadays.

I protest at Ophelia beside us. "No, you need to rest."

"It's just a wound." She answers. "I'm not useless. I can still help."

Daniel's thick accent is heavy as he adds, "We all contribute to our survival. Ophelia will, too. She knows her own strength."

 _Fine_ , I mentally reply. _If she gets worse, it's her own damn fault._

Strand pulls up above us, standing tall on the rails that surround the captain's area. He wrings his fingers as he rests his forearms against the railing, waiting as worriedly as the rest of us.

 _Finally_ , Nick and co. return on the raft, survival supplies, Liza's body, and all. Thank the fucking lord. Nick pulls up to the floating wooden platform of the boat and we all grab at the raft to steady it for the newcomers.

"Well done, Nick." I faintly hear Strand say before he saunters back into his captain's quarters. Once the last piece of equipment is pulled on board, Nick manages to tether the raft to the side of the floating piece of wood. Another angry flash of white light floods my vision, and I turn to look back at L.A.

More bombs. More missiles. Each lights up the L.A. horizon like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Huge blasts, small blasts, fires bright on the treetops. The whole of what used to be home, gone.

I'm not the only one watching. We all stop our ministrations and watch in terror as our familiar home is engulfed in flames and explosions. There's so much smoke billowing to the sky.

Silently my hand reaches for Alycia's beside me. She grasps it tightly, squeezing it for some comfort. While I enjoy the action, I don't feel like I'll ever forget this moment, or the pain that grips at my heart from witnessing it.

The moment the old world officially ended. The old world _burned_ to the ground. All we have now is death and survival. That's all that matters.

* * *

"Down here are the sleeping quarters." Strand instructs. He flips the switch in the small hallway, lighting our view in a soft hue of white. "There _are_ more, but I'm assuming you all want to hunker down close to each other tonight."

 _Yes, definitely._

"Fight amongst yourselves." He gestures to the open hallway. "There's plenty of space. Big rooms, bunk beds. Try to get a good night's sleep. Washrooms are further down, to the left."

"Thank you." Madison speaks for all of us, bag in hand. Strand bids us good night shortly after, and takes his leave. He gets to sleep a good three levels above us. Perks of being a captain.

Softly, Madison pads over to the first door closest to us and gently swings it open. Bunk beds. There are four small twin beds total; two on the left and right of the cramped space. One small dresser on the right, directly next to the door and pointing to the beds. In between the bunk beds is a _very_ small nightstand with a single lamp and digital clock on top. There aren't any windows in the small area, so the only light glowing is from the lamp and the red numbers on the clock.

"Girls, you wanna take this one?" Madison looks to me and Alycia questioningly as she jerks her head to the room. I look to Alycia, shrug, and nod in response. Alycia takes the first step in and slings a backpack down on the bottom left bed.

"This one has two beds." Nick calls from further down the hall. It's right next to ours, but a good two yards space between them. "Chris, you wanna share?"

Chris, completely silent throughout the ordeal, glassily looks up. His eyes, originally trained on the lifeless form of Liza in a white sheet held in Travis' arms, go to the door handle in Nick's hands.

"I don't… I don't wanna leave her," is his response. My heart breaks for the kid. He hasn't left her side since … Since Travis gave her mercy.

"Hey, Chris." Travis says softly. "I'll put her in the room next door. She would want you to get some sleep after everything, okay? For her."

The death glare in Chris's eyes is very potent, but he gives a nod after a moment. He plants a chaste kiss onto Liza's cold forehead before trailing in front of Nick and entering the open room. Nick stares at the heavy-set action, his eyes glued to Chris's back until the kid sets himself down on a bed.

"Guess that's my cue." Nick pulls back to the rest of us. "Night, everyone."

He closes the door behind him as Travis takes Liza's body to the room over, fulfilling his promise to Chris. Then he and Madison take the room opposite the boys, on the left side of the hallway. Ophelia decides to hunker down on her own across from mine and Alycia's. Daniel, though obviously wanting to stay by Ophelia's side, opts to take the bedroom farthest away from all of us on the left.

I flop ungracefully on my stomach onto the bottom bunk on the right, the exhaustion of the past few days catching up to me. It's been so long since I've slept. The dark claws of unconsciousness pull at my eyelids, my body trying so hard to fall into a deep sleep.

And I would; I _will_ , just after I get more Aloe on my shoulders and face. Better to let it soak in overnight.

"Aloe, please." I mumble quietly as I twist my head to Alycia's side, ignoring my body's cries for sleep. Willing myself to stay awake, I hold a hand out over the edge of the bed. I hear the zipper of the backpack open and feel the weight of the bottle in my hands. "Thanks, love."

Alycia gives a quiet hum in response. I push on my arms, forcing myself to sit up on cris-crossed legs as I pop the cap of the bottle and squirt some liquid onto my fingers. I furiously lather the liquid between my hands before delicately applying it to my cheeks, nose, and forehead. The cool feel is relieving to my hot skin. I adjust the shirt on my shoulders by stretching the collar out to one side, rubbing some Aloe in, and doing the same to the other side. I try to reach the back of my neck, but to little avail. I reach a small portion and do what I can.

"Need some help?" Alycia asks. I don't miss her tired tone.

But, seeing as I can't reach a portion of my back, I nod. "Would you mind?"

"'Course not." She offers. In two short strides she makes her way to my bed and situates herself behind me. "Shirt off."

I oblige, swinging my black shirt over my head and down my arms with little thought. We used to have PE together. She and I have seen more skin in the locker room; this is nothing.

"Bottle." Alycia asks. I bring it over my shoulder so she can grab it. A quick thanks is given before she squirts the clear liquid on her hands and begins rubbing softly into my shoulder blades, being careful not to rub any onto my bra straps.

"Ah," I sigh and close my eyes at the feeling. I can feel her smile at my back as she rubs soothing circles onto me, kneading softly. The knots and stress from the past few days finally dissipates with each rotation of her wrists. I slouch in my spot, giving in to the relaxation.

"You're overworked, darling." Alycia says in an exaggerated accent. "Too much stress. You must _relax_ , mon amore." She applies a bit more Aloe to her hands, and begins to rub from my shoulders down my burnt biceps with gentle ease. "Rest is good for ze soul."

Switching back to her normal voice, she seriously asks, "When was the last time you slept?"

I rack my brain to remember. Scrunching up my nose I come to the conclusion, "Two days, maybe? Last time I was at your house."

A moment of silence rings through the air as we both realize that is the _last time_ any of us would ever be in the Clarke residence. Now, we sail the sea; we're bloody _pirates_. Who knows how long we'll be here? How long will we be without a home?

The thought is still prominent in my mind as I feel the loss of Alycia's hands from my hot skin. "Speaking of," she starts. She stands, wiping the remaining Aloe from her hands onto the front of her jeans before bending down to rummage through the backpack on her bed. "We grabbed your book for ya. Before leaving to get you and Nick."

The EMT textbook cover shines proudly through the soft lamplight. I throw my shirt back on with a grin as she places the book in my hand. "Thought you'd like it," she continues as she flops on her bed, "considering it was going to be your birthday present this year."

I frown. "Wait, what?"

As she stretches comfortably on her sheets, she looks over to me. She points to the book with a long, delicate finger. "You never read the inscription?"

With a rush of vigor I pry open the cover and flatten out the front page. Sure enough, there are black markings that resemble my mother's cursive.

 _"Dear Smurfette,  
_

 _Happy 19th birthday! I know this isn't a luxurious car or your own apartment, but trust us, this is expensive enough!  
_

 _We know that you're still figuring out your life YOUR way, and you know that we will ALWAYS support you, no matter where you go. Just to give you options, we thought that maybe this branch of medicine is calling your heart.  
_

 _We still remember you talking about career day freshman year, when the EMT and 911 dispatcher came in to talk to all of you. You thought it was the best thing in the world, so maybe this is your calling!  
_

 _If not, please disregard this book, white-out this note, and sell on eBay.  
_

 _Love you, Cristina! Mum and Dad"_

My fingers run over the words gently as I take in the new information. _This was mine. This was_ _ **always**_ _mine._ They bought it for _me_.

"I never noticed the inscription..." I say softly, my voice barely audible to Alycia. My heart catches in my throat. "I thought this was my mum's the whole time."

Another example as to how oblivious Cristina Anne Waters can be. But this time, I'm glad. It's a _refreshing_ new piece of info. Something I can hold onto of my parents. Something physical to keep my memory of them alive.

A sharp knock from the door pulls me out of my thoughts. Alycia tells the person to come in. I'm expecting Madison to come through; maybe she was checking the rooms, making rounds before allowing herself to visit the wonderful land of dreams.

Instead, it's Nick. He saunters in the room quickly, probably looking forward to losing consciousness as much as I am.

I pull my gaze away from him as I set _my_ EMT book onto the nightstand. Then I pull the blankets of the bed from underneath me and begin to tuck myself in comfortably.

"Just need my cigarettes." He explains. Alycia hands him the backpack and he searches a few of the smaller pouches before unzipping the bigger slit, rummaging around, and finding a pack with his lighter. I hear him set the backpack on the ground beside Alycia and his steps trail away to the door.

"Night, 'Lycia." He says.

"Night," she responds, very sleepily. Then she waits a beat after he closes the door before turning to me. "He didn't say good night to you."

 _He's listening_ , I think. But I say, "It's fine," with a half-hearted shrug. "Probably just tired, or forgot."

"Oh, shit," she slaps her hand on her forehead softly. " _ **I**_ forgot; he wanted me to tell you. It's officially day two."

Curious, I peak my head over to the digital clock on the nightstand. She's right—the bright red numbers read 1:52 AM. _Of course he said that._

I hum in acknowledgment, but say no more.

Alycia fully twists herself on her bed so she can see my form. I stare up at the bunk bed's frame absentmindedly, sleep seemingly catching up to me as my eyelids desperately flutter.

"What's it mean?" Alycia asks.

"Nothing." I say, then correct myself, because she's Alycia and I love her and she deserves to know at least a fraction of the truth. "Well, nothing I want to explain right now."

I can feel her eyes boring into my skin, so I twist my head to look at her. Her eyes squint at me, trying to figure out the predicament I'm in. "Yes?" I question.

"Is there something going on between the two of you?" Alycia finally asks in trepidation.

This question, I find the truthful answer in seconds. I twist back in bed, staring up at the bunk.

"Maybe."

* * *

 _BING!_

 _"Hello! This is the voicemail of Laura Allen-Waters. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as fast as I can._

 _If this is the Good Samaritan Hospital and there is an emergency, please call the hospital's phone number and my extension is .855.  
_

 _Thank you so much!"_

 _CLICK._

I listen to the robotic voice tell me to leave my message after the tone. Smiling at my mothers' voice, I hear the click and start my message slowly.

"Hi… Hi mum. It's Tina. Smurfette. Kiddo. Whatever the hell you'd call me."

I look out the wide window of this room. It's Chris and Nick's, and the beds in here are much larger in comparison to mine and Alycia's. I lounge on one, my legs cris-crossed underneath me as I look up at the sky outside. Everyone is already upstairs, most likely starting lunch without me. But I needed a moment to myself. My cell phone, once kept in Alycia's backpack, rests comfortably in my hand and held against my ear.

"I, um..." Letting out a sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. "I probably shouldn't be leaving you a voicemail. You're at the other end of the world, probably dead like dad. But, it's been a few rough days, and I really needed to hear your voice."

"In the span of three days, I was knocked unconscious, thrown in a cage with Nick, escaped said cage with Nick and an absolute stranger, and now I'm on a boat that said stranger owns." Then I begin to laugh into the phone. "I'm sorry, I just, I've never said that out loud before. It sounds like a bad action movie. Damn romance subplot and all."

I mumble the last part before pushing my back up against the wall and throwing an arm around my bent knees in front of me. "I, uh, I killed someone yesterday, too. That's not as funny. Granted, he _was_ infected and dead, but it still weighs on me. He was alive, once. He had a family, a job, maybe kids. He could've been a wonderful person in life. I don't know, but I killed him. Would you and dad be upset with me? If you two were alive, would you understand that I had to do it? Would you be able to?"

Unconsciously, I rub at my face. "Doesn't matter, I guess. You and dad are probably dead now. I'll never know. Neither will you. Maybe it's best you don't know that I'm capable of killing someone."

I wait a beat in the silence before changing the subject, my eyes staring out the window above. "I found the EMT book, by the way. Last time I visited our apartment, I may have snooped in your room. Please don't be mad. But I've been reading it, taking notes, even using the information. My friend, Ophelia—who, by the way, was also a complete stranger until two weeks ago—she got shot. Yeah, _shot_. The world has really turned upside down, hasn't it? Anyway, she was shot, and I got to help her with Liza. She's— _was_ , a nurse. Very smart. She tried to teach me first-hand how to help with that. She's dead now. Died yesterday."

God, I'm rambling now. Into the phone, talking to my dead parents.

"She was scratched by one of the infected. She didn't want to turn. Travis had to put her down. Thing is, she's Chris' mum. He hasn't been taking it well. And I want to help him through it. I mean, my parents are probably dead, too. I should know how it feels like to be without someone you love. But here I am, babbling into this receiver like you'll hear this and come back. I'll never know. He does. I just... I'll guess, and I truly think you're gone, but there's always this thought in the back of my head. This thought that says, maybe they'll hear this. Maybe they're still alive, and they'll go through hell to make it back—"

 _BEEP!_

"Message saved."

 _Ah, shit. That was longer than expected._

"If you would like to listen to this message, press one. If you would to send this message, press two. If you would like to delete this message and record another, press three. If you would like to-"

To stop the robot's incessant yapping, I press two.

"Message sent."

And the line goes dead.

Dejectedly, I toss the phone onto the bed, where it bounces twice and stills on the mattress. My forehead goes to rest on my knees, and I sigh heavily.

 _This was a lot harder than expected._

 _Everything's a lot harder than expected._

* * *

"Hey!"

Alycia jogs to the railing of the yacht, where I comfortably rest my arms. My hair—now completely void of red and orange and has turned to a soft blonde—whips around my head violently in the wind. It's annoying, but delightfully refreshing.

"Hello, love!" I grin to her through my messy locks. It's a pained smile, but some weight has been lifted off my chest a fraction of an inch. The phone call helped.

"You missed Strand's dramatic proclamation to the ship." Her arms rest beside mine on the railing as she bumps her hip against me. "Says we could go anywhere we want."

"Anywhere, huh?" I muse aloud. "Think we could make it to Framlingham?" My eyes twinkle in curiosity as I look up to her. "I could show you guys my old house. My old room."

Maybe mum and dad made it back there. And we'd find them, and they'd be okay, and we'll all live through the rest of this until the world turns back to normal.

 _Stop. Stop thinking that. You're alive; that's all the joy you get._

"That'd be nice." Alycia comments. "Have any dark secrets locked away in there?"

"Yes, all my dark magic is hidden in the floorboards of my basement. Duh."

The sarcasm earns a chuckle out of her. "Please don't curse me if we ever make our way up there, then."

"But that takes the fun out of it!"

"Fun out of what?" Another voice carries over to us, along with the sound of heavy footsteps. Ophelia meanders to us, a welcoming smile on her features.

"Oh, Tina's going to curse me with her secret dark magic." Alycia explains cheekily.

"That would _definitely_ be fun." I say with a wink. "Congrats, you've unlocked the evil backstory of Tina Waters. Now I'll have to kill you."

Ophelia raises an eyebrow, perplexed, before giggling in amusement. "I'd rather you not, thanks."

"Oh," I huff playfully, "Neither of you are fun. Let a girl live a little, won't ya?"

"Poor, poor Tina." Alycia claps a hand at my shoulder. "One day I'll allow you to curse me. Just once, okay?"

"Thank you." I praise graciously, grinning to her. Ophelia lets her weight fall behind her, rolling on the bottom of her heels as her back meets the pristine white wall of the Abigail.

I point to her shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

"Oh, fine." She waves a hand dismissively. "I cleaned it earlier. It's feeling a bit better now. I think the antibiotics are kicking in."

"That's good to hear." Alycia says. "We all of us at 100% now. Who knows what we'll find there."

The statement is met with silence. It's true; that makes all of this worse.

As the Abigail changes direction softly to the left, we get a little splash of salty water to our forms. The water is colder than expected, and it seems to wake us up from our stump.

"Um," Ophelia recharges her thoughts. "I came here to say that lunch was ready. Papa caught some fish earlier."

"Awesome." Alycia answers. "Let's go eat. I'm starving."

* * *

 _"Hello! This is the voicemail of Laura Allen-Waters. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as fast as I can."_

I listen to her voicemail again as Alycia's in the shower. I'm already dressed and Aloe-d for bed, but Alycia wanted to freshen up. I thought there would be enough time to hear her voice and leave another message.

"At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up, or press one for more options." The robot voice explains.

 _BEEP!_

"Hi mum. It's Tina again." I can't help but smile into the receiver. "Today was, well, it was _good_. Better than yesterday. Though it's not hard to be better than yesterday."

"The Abigail is nice. That's the ship we're on. Strand's boat. He's the one that saved me and Nick yesterday. The Abigail—well, it's more than a ship; it's a YACHT! It's huge and fast, and honestly I can barely feel it moving. Remember when dad and I went fishing when I was a kid? And we went on a rickety little boat, and I got sick on it? Not now. I think I've finally grown sea legs!"

No movement comes from the door, so I allow myself another few seconds to talk into the phone. "You'd probably like it on here. You'd feel rich. It's large and vast, and you can easily get lost in here. I may have, just a few times. I'm getting a hang of the layout. First full day on the Abigail was a success."

"In the next few days, though," My voice grows somber as I add a sad detail, "We're trying to find deep enough levels to drop Liza's body into the water. We're not heading back to shore to bury her, and we're _not_ keeping her body onboard. So, burial by sea she gets. I'm not sure how Chris is handling it. He's angry all the time, but he wasn't always a peach beforehand, either."

Footsteps sound outside the door, louder as they come closer.

"Sorry mum and dad." I clutch the receiver close to my face as I whisper out a quick goodbye. "Alycia's coming. Love you, bye."

I press, "End call," just as Alycia twists the doorknob of our door. I throw the phone underneath my pillow and adjust it so the metal doesn't show.

The sheets of my bed flutter around my form as I slip underneath them and tuck them around me as Alycia enters the room, clad in only an oversized t-shirt and some shorts. Wet hair clings to her face, water droplets slowly seeping into the collar of the tee.

"Hey there beautiful." I hum lowly to her.

"Hey, yourself." She responds, dipping into her bed quickly. "I can't wait to fuckin' sleep."

"Me too." I nod in understanding. Then I turn my head to look across the room at her. "We made it through our first day on a boat. How's that make you feel?"

"Just call me Captain Alycia." She pulls her gaze from mine to look at the bunk bed above her. "I say we're honorary pirates."

"We deserve it."

"Definitely." Her fingers grasp delicately at the sheets as she pulls them up to her chin. "G'night, Tina."

"Night, 'Lycia."


	10. Chapter 10: Just Keep Swimming?

_A/N: Just as promised, here's chapter two! And before we delve in to Tina's story, I would just like to say:_

 _(If any of you aren't caught up with season 4 of FearTWD, I would stop reading now. MAJOR spoilers ahead.)_

 _Well, The Walking Dead universe has done it again; they've killed off my favorite character. Argh. Well, seeing as this story is JUST making it to season two, I still have a long way to get there. I don't know what I'm going to do just yet when I reach that part, but I have time. I'll come up with something. Now, if any of you read my Not How We Were story, you know that I am not a fan of when TWD kills off half of my fricken ship that I have literally created a whole story for. I'm fixing it on that story, so I'll probably fix it here, too. I'm just not sure how yet._

 _So, point is: if you are worried for season 4 when I get there in this story, don't be. I'll manage something. Maybe not a whole happy ending, seeing as this is FearTWD we're talking about, but I'm not gonna let THAT happen. We'll see!_

 _Update as of **5/9/19:** Awe, back when they killed off Nick. Ouch. _

_Well, if any of you are interested, I DO have an ending in sight! There's a barebones plan now, but I think it's a very rewarding end for these characters that we know and love!_

* * *

I'll admit, I should _not_ be out in direct sunlight while I'm still healing from my sunburn. I'm probably making it worse. But it's so damn nice out that I can't care.

I lounge beside Alycia on pearl white plastic lawn chairs, the first level up on the Abigail. They're bent completely straight to the ground so we can lay flat. She's facing the sun. I'm resting on my belly, my face curled on bent arms as the sun beats on my back, covered only by my whipping hair and the black sports bra I'm wearing. I'm comfortable and content. It may be the end of the world, but in this moment, it doesn't feel like it.

"MAYDAY!"

"HELP! HELP US!"

"PLEASE!"

"MAYDAY!"

Alycia and I share a look of fear before bolting upright and running to the railing. Madison trails close behind, running from inside the Abigail to reach us.

 _Dozens_ of people are floating nearby on a rickety, rotting raft. It's barely a 5x5; I'm not sure how long they'll be able to float on there before it'll sink. Clothes are tattered and burned, no belongings in hand, or backpacks on shoulders. These people must have been through hell.

"Oh my god." Madison exclaims softly. I nod quickly in agreement. _Poor guys._

"What do we do, mom?" Alycia asks, eyes burning with concern.

"I'll talk to Strand." She answers. _Yeah, good luck with that._ She pulls away from us and turns to the captain's cabin, throwing, "Go get Travis," over her shoulder.

And we do. I grab my t-shirt and toss it on before we bolt past the doors threshold. We find him in the dining room, cleaning up a couple plates for lunch in the deep sink.

"There's people." Alycia says quickly, grabbing his hand and tugging him behind us.

"Wait, what?" He stutters, confused.

I explain, "There's over a dozen people stranded on a raft. They need help, we need to help them."

We pass the threshold of the glass door leading to the first level of the ship, where Daniel was fishing earlier and Nick rests. I barely look at Nick, but his ensemble is... Interesting to say the least. Underwear showing above saggy khakis, no shirt on his chest, but wrapped in his hair to keep it out of his face. _Because hair ties are too mainstream. Idiot._

Daniel's fishing equipment is pulled to the side, away from the edge of the boat. Not that he'd get anything out of the water besides debris from whatever wreckage these poor strangers have been in.

In Daniel's hands is his shotgun, yet again, as he points out, "We have company."

"Oh, _shit!_ " Travis exclaims. His hands grasp at the burning metal of the railing, grip tight. "Where's Madison?"

"She's talking to Strand." Alycia answers. "We got to get these people."

I nod energetically. If we can help them, we _should_. "We _have_ to."

Travis looks away from the two of us, down to the litter floating in the water. Contemplating. It's like I can see the gears in his head, turning at rates faster than I can comprehend.

"We're gonna help them, right?" Alycia asks.

The frown he makes after the question breaks my heart. _He's saying no. How could he say no?! These are human_ _ **beings**_ _we could help!_

"Right now, help us." He changes the subject. "Inside, there's a radio."

"Travis-" I start. Alycia opens her mouth to object, too, but Travis cuts us off.

"Girls." He starts again. "Inside, there's a radio. Listen to the channels. We got to get a track on where we can go that's safe, okay?"

"What about these people?" Alycia objects.

"I'm gonna talk to Strand." He dismisses us, mentally at war with himself. "If you two could do that for us, right now. Go." He gently shoves us toward the inside of the boat, and we follow through the threshold of the opened glass door.

I look behind us one last time, my eyes gleaming over Travis and accidentally locking with Nick's. His are just as worried as mine probably are. Then I turn away from him and run to the large radio with Alycia.

"When this is over," I start, "Tell Nick I think he looks like an idiot with his hair like that."

"He knows; he just doesn't give a shit." Alycia shrugs. She fiddles with a couple of the dials before it turns on and emits crackling static into the air.

"Have you worked with one of these before?" I ask. She grabs the large, black box and we begin our descent down the curving stairs.

"A couple times, yeah."

She turns another dial, and a deep voice calls out, "Mayday, mayday, mayday!" _Oh, no._ "This is the Summer Wind. We're taking on water-"

As we head down the hallway to our bedroom Alycia clicks to another radio wave, and this time a soft, feminine voice calls out, "There's another boat, they're boarding and I don't know what they're gonna do."

"Oh, god." I say gravely.

I see Chris walking out of his shared bedroom with Nick, his belongings in a single duffel bag on his shoulder. He shuffles past, warily eyeing the radio in Alycia's hands before turning the corner of the hallway that leads out to the other side and to other rooms. _Moving to the other side of the boat?_

I follow the next broadcast; Alycia doesn't stay on this one long. "The population of this city is officially zero. I repeat, there are no more living in my city!"

My hand is shaking as I open the door. These people _, all of them,_ are in a world of shit.

"Don't let it get to you," Alycia murmurs, her voice pained as much as mine. She flips the channel over as we sit on the edge of her bed side by side.

I don't manage the first part of the next broadcast, but I get, "… People on the cliff. People are jumping!"

More voices fill the background of this channel, at least three other voices, one of them a small boy. "Mommy—Mommy won't wake up!"

"They were hurt and won't wake up." An older voice cries. Not by much; his voice is higher, puberty-like. _Children. Kids._

She flips it again, pained eyes meeting mine. There's a lot of static and chatter on this channel. The only sentence I can make out is an older woman's voice, gravely whining, "I saw his head go away. It just… Went away. I don't-"

Alycia switches the channel again, her and I both hoping for better news than this. This virus, this bloody _apocalypse_ , has spread everywhere.

The speed of the Abigail picks up as we hear a strong, soldier-like voice announce, "This is Coast Guard Station L.A.L.B. We have no assistance to provide. I repeat, there is no rescue by sea, land, or by air. There's nothing… Forgive us."

We shuffle through a few more channels, listening to more horrid stories. It feels like each one gets progressively worse. Ten more horror stories and I'm _done_.

"Alycia, I..." _I can't. I can't anymore._

"Go." Her voice is soft and hurt, eyes glassy. She shouldn't go through this alone.

"Are you sure?" I ask her quietly.

"Mayday, mayday! The infected, they're in the water-"

 _I need to leave. I can't hear this anymore._ My eyes glaze at the damn black box. I wish it would stop.

"Yeah." Alycia nods. "Go. I'll keep an ear on it."

"Okay." _Thank you._

Slowly, I head out of the room and close the door behind me. So many lives; elderly, children, regular bloody people all suffering to this awful devastation.

I walk aimlessly throughout the ship, up the stairs to the second level, by the hall that leads to the dining area and out to the front. Ophelia's resting on the couch by the windows, alone and a blanket resting on her bottom half as she reads from a pristine kept hard cover book.

"This seat taken?" I ask and point to the open cushion beside her.

"Not at all. Pop a squat." She pats it.

I sit next to her, giving a quick thanks, and comment on the book. "Whatcha reading?"

"Grapes of Wrath." Ophelia replies, thumbing through it. "Goes to show how deathly bored I am."

I give an empty chuckle. Normally I'd laugh at the joke, but after listening to so much death—I don't have it in my heart to enjoy the humor.

"Need any help with the bandage?" I change the subject and look at it. Blood's seeped through the pale cloth; probably not good.

"I changed it earlier." Ophelia brushes it off. "I'm fine. Managing."

"Okay." I'm a little disappointed; I was hoping to get more first aid training. I'll just have to go back to the book. _At least she's healing okay. Thank god for that._ "Glad to hear it."

"By the way, before I forget." She adjusts in her seat as she looks over to me. "Nick told me to tell you. Day three."

I scoff in disbelief, though I can't suppress the grin that follows. _Is he going to do this every day until day seven? He's certainly that stubborn._

"Any idea what it means?" She asks.

I jerk a sarcastic nod. " _Oh yeah_ , I know. Don't worry about it."

She shrugs, curious but not pushing it. "Okay."

The glass door from outside opens, Madison pushing through it. She looks grim; a deep, sad frown and blank eyes gracing her features.

"We're deep enough." She says. "We're going to bury Liza."

* * *

We're on the floating raft at the back of the ship, all of us, sans Strand of course. Liza, her face left uncovered, is still wrapped in the pale white sheet as her body rests on a wooden stand right by the edge of the raft. Her face is ashen, the only contrast being the bright red blood around the bullet wound on her forehead. Besides all that, though, she looks peaceful. Her lips curve upward, the ghostly hint of a smile remaining on her deceased form.

I stand beside Nick and Alycia as they rest on the set of stairs leading up to the captain's quarters. Travis stands next to Liza, eyes hollow of any emotion besides grief. Madison stays close, by the railing at the edge of the boat. Close, but not smothering. Letting him mourn by himself while still offering a crutch. Ophelia and Daniel are away from the group, offering those who actually knew her some space to grieve.

Chris, though, stands the farthest away from her. He's at the bend of the boat, where the raft connects to the Abigail and the pathway curves over the side. He looks out to the water, away from everyone; away from _her_. It's like he can't even look at Liza. I'm sure it's too painful.

"Um..." Travis starts. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before saying, "You all knew Liza long enough to see what kind of person she was, how devoted she was to her family. She loved to help people. She would help _anyone_ , and she did. She was selfless, y'know? She just, would give from her heart."

He lets out a shaky breath as his eyes cast to the ground. I try not to notice the tears welling in his eyes. He bats them away with a palm as he begins again. "And she could be fierce. Oh my god. She was so strong, it was painful sometimes." He lets out a soft chuckle. _I can imagine. I barely knew her and I could see all that determination._

He rests a hand on the wood of the platform she rests on, gazing down to her lovingly.

"And the best thing that we ever did together was our son..." Chris shoots his head up, staring to Travis. His expression is unreadable. Anger? Sadness? Grief? Melancholy? All of the above? "She loved him more than anything or anyone."

Chris takes a slow breath, shutting his eyes before he stares straight at his mother's face. He takes slow, deliberate steps, padding up to the front of her platform. He stares down to her, and I don't miss the second-long flash of utter hurt on his face. The brokenness he feels. The pain. The sadness. Then the anger.

He pulls the white sheet draped around her to cover her, teeth clenched, and he yanks up the platform from underneath her. Liza's body slides down the wood, splashing into the water violently. The rest of us stare in shock. None of us were expecting that _this_ is how she'd be buried into the blue.

Chris stalks off quickly, palming away escaped tears as he stomps back inside the boat. Travis, stunned in place, shakes off the surprise and follows Chris down the dark hallway leading into the Abigail.

Then silence. It's deafening as we all shift awkwardly, waiting for something to happen.

"Um..." Madison starts in the awkward silence. "Why don't we all get the table ready for lunch, yeah?"

"Yeah." I nod, and one by one we trail inside the Abigail, going to the dining room.

Alycia pulls away from the group, ready to take the curving stairs up a level before I stop her. "'Lych, come on. Lunch time."

"Yeah, I know, just gotta check the radio first."

I frown. "The radio can wait 'till later, love. At least eat without all that floating in your head."

"I'll be fine. Don't wait up." She replies, bounding up the stairs with vigor.

Madison and I share a look of concern as she hands me a set of plates. Ophelia grabs the silverware, setting forks and knives down at each dish I set. Madison sets the glasses, Nick rests on one of the couches, and Daniel cooks the eel he caught earlier. I'm not looking forward to eating it, but at least we have bread and fruit to wash it down.

Travis amble into the room slowly, eyes glassy. The surely forming bruise on his eye is visible, but I try not to look at it.

"Travis." Madison calls to him. She pads over, gently twisting his head so she can take a closer look at it. "Oh, it went that well, huh?"

"Oh yeah, _great_." Travis says sarcastically, though his tone has no bite. He just seems... Sad. Which is understandable. Poor guy has been through enough. Him and Chris both. Hopefully the tension dies down soon.

"Remind me to never have kids." I whisper to Ophelia as we meet at the same plate set.

"Me too."

Madison takes a step back from him, pulling away and turning to the dark hallway. "I'll go talk to him." She says softly. Travis just nods in agreement.

Her soft footsteps fill my ears as I turn back to the table and set the plate of canned veggies down. _Yummy_ , I think with an eye roll. Travis goes to sit on one of the very expensive-looking couches, pouring a glass of very expensive-looking bourbon. _Strand has the money; he loves to spend it._ Travis deserves the few minutes of peace.

"Travis." Alycia calls out, bounding down the stairs two at a time with the radio in hand. "Travis, someone needs helps. They're sinking."

It's like I can _see_ the frustration bubbling in him. Travis let's out a slow, "Who?" before taking a long sip of the alcohol. _Goddammit, Alycia, let him take a break._

"Look," Alycia sighs as she takes a seat on the couch opposite him. "It's just him, his brother, and his sister-in-law. Just three. We can manage that."

"What's this?" Madison asks as she enters the room, swiftly walking to Alycia.

"Jack. His name's Jack." Alycia says, looking between the two. I rest my arms on the long table in front of me, concerned. I was adamant on putting those survivors on the raft with us. What's a whole three more people on here? If they need help, they need help. I look over to Ophelia, but she's unreadable. Concerned, yes. I can't see her stance on the problem, though.

"Who the hell is Jack?" Strand's deep baritone asks as he gets down the stairs. His eyes train harshly on Alycia, anger burning without even attempting to look calm.

"You gonna make me ask twice?" His voice raises as she stays silent, nervous.

"He's on a fishing boat," Alycia explains, "He's near here and he's sinking."

"You talked to him." Strand clarifies. Alycia looks over to Madison, as if silently asking for permission to speak, before Madison nods to her encouragingly.

"Yes, I talked to him."

"Did you tell him anything about us?"

Alycia has the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look as she stutters out, "I… No, I didn't tell him anything important."

 _Oh, dear. Strand did_ _ **not**_ _like that._

"What _didn't_ you say, Alycia?!" Strand raises his voice, nearly shouting. "What didn't you tell him about us?!"

"Calm down." Travis says softly, tired but ready to defend.

"This isn't a game!" Strand glares daggers at the two. "It's mob rule on land; you think it's any better out here?"

"Back off."

"What're you gonna do, Travis?! You feel strong?"

Travis stands up, resting a hand on Alycia's shoulder as he steps in front of her to give some space between the two.

Strand takes a deep, huffing breath before projecting his voice for our group. "Please, let me explain the rules of the boat. Rule number one," he holds his index finger out. "It's my boat." He clasps his hands together, straightening his back out. "Rule number two, _it is_ _ **my**_ _boat_. And if there remains confusion about rules one and two, I offer rule number three; it's my goddamn boat."

His voice goes lower, more controlled as he finishes with, "If it weren't for me, you would all be burned. You're welcome." He storms off from us, bounding up the stairs with a vicious vigor.

His anger is met with silence as we all process the scene. Hah, only day two on the boat and we're already causing problems. _Bloody wonderful_.

"I'll go talk to him." Nick says, standing from the couch and trailing behind our happy captain.

The rest of us finish prepping the table and food. Bread, butter, veggies, some fruit, and when Daniel finishes with the eel he sets the covered platter in the middle, only opening it once Nick has come down the steps with a joyful vigor. It's one of the few times I've seen him actually grin.

"Alright, are we all ready to eat?" Madison announces. Her question is met with many excited nods. "Then let's dig in!"

We all grab seats and start to fill up our plates with the diverse options. I scoop a small heaping of the veggies first, then a slice of bread, which I notice is warm enough that the butter melts on top. _Yummy!_ Then I grab some slices of mango and some grapes, waiting to grab the eel last. I'm not sure if I'm going to like it much, so I'd rather get the small portion.

 _SPLASH!_

The sound travels through the whole room, startling everyone. _Splash? Why was there a splash?_

"Chris!" Travis exclaims. The only person not at the table besides Strand. _Shit._

The whole group rushes through the open door, bounding down the stairs and onto the wooden platform of the ship. Nick leads the group, barreling down first and diving into the water to grab Chris. _If_ he can find him. It doesn't look like Chris has surfaced the water at all. _Shit, shit._

I block the sun out with my eyes as I search through the water for the two. There's a huge cloud of fog coming our way, making the visibility even _shittier_.

"Chris!" Travis calls out, eyes darting over the surface of the water as he nervously twitches in place.

"I can't see either of them." I say, my voice worried as I stand beside Travis on the platform. "Can you?"

"There." Travis points, and through the fog I can see the two breaking the water's surface. "Chris?"

"Is he okay?" Madison calls out to Nick.

"Hey, come on in!" Nick answers jovially. His hands swing back and forth around him as he treads water. "The water's fine."

He and Chris float off in different directions, and I sigh. _We were supposed to be having lunch._ I try not to let my nerves get shot as Nick dives under the water again, swimming deeper than before. He doesn't surface until he's gone a good ten feet farther away from the boat. Then he dives _again_.

 _I swear to god, if he drowns I will revive him and kill him myself_.

He doesn't surface happily this time. Instead, he screams. " _MOM!_ " A shot of fear burns through me as I hear the agitation in his voice.

"Travis!" Madison calls, pointing to the fog.

No, not fog. _Smoke._

A shipwreck floats in tatters and pieces throughout the clear blue around us. Debris ripples through the water, large and small chunks with odds and ends strewn about them. The front of the ship is largely held together, but flipped upside down in the water. The dead float freely as well, a good dozen surrounding the Abigail. Their moans fly into my ears as my heart soars to my throat.

"Get him out of there." My hands grip onto Travis' forearm. "Get Nick out of there, NOW!"

"GET OUT OF THE WATER!" Madison screams to Nick and Chris. "NOW, BOYS! _GET OUT!_ "

Travis pulls away from me and hops on to the raft tied securely to the Abigail. In little time he undoes the knots keeping it attached, and he starts up the engine and pulls away from us.

"Where is he?" I ask Madison, searching the waters for Nick. Chris is closer; it shouldn't take too long for Travis to get him. But Nick—

"I don't see him. Oh my god…" Madison gasps under her breath.

"Nick!" Alycia screams from the first level of the ship. I follow her eyesight and find him floating off, far in the distance.

"I hear someone!" He calls back. He dives under the water again, his feet breaking the surface as he kicks himself further to the wreckage. Alycia and Madison scream out to him again, calling him back to the ship. I stomp to the edge of the platform, having half a mind to get out there and pull his ass back to the Abigail.

Travis finally gets the raft close enough to Chris to pull him out of the water. Just in the nick of time, too, as there was an infected right behind him, grasping at his ankle. _Great. One down, one to go._

"Nick!" Madison screams out beside me. I try to ignore the pounding in my chest. I can't see him, I can't hear him. Where did he go? _Damn this seven day rule._ I scream out for him too, the terror in me rising by the second.

Travis calls his name out, swiftly pulling off his jacket and jumping into the water, quickly paddling to the immense wreckage of the front of the ship.

"Nick!" I scream out, my eyes taking in every little detail. "Goddammit, Nick!"

He _finally_ surfaces the water, gasping for air as he triumphantly holds a plastic bag with a book in it above his head. _Thank the fucking lord._

Travis and Nick both paddle over to the raft, taking a quick moment to breathe as they float.

Fast footsteps fill my ears as Strand hops to us. "We should be leaving now." He bounds down the steps leading to the captain's area, all the way to the platform beside me and Madison. "Someone's joining us."

"Travis!" Madison screams out. He and Nick pull themselves onto the raft, and Travis starts up the motor.

"It could be no one." Strand says as he runs up the steps leading to the platform. Then he stops by Alycia. "Or it could be the ones who did _that_."

Shit. It doesn't seem like Alycia's radio crush is quite-so-innocent. But quite frankly, I don't give a damn in the moment. Madison trails after Strand as Alycia and Ophelia grab pale white towels from one of the cabinets inside the living area of the boat quickly, coming back down the platform just as the raft hits the edge of the Abigail.

The boys try to secure it back to the side of the platform as Madison comes back down the stairs. "We have to go. We have to go now."

"What?" Travis asks, disoriented.

Ophelia hands Nick and Chris each a towel and they begin to dry themselves off and Madison shouts, "Strand! We're clear!"

"What's happening? What's going on?" Travis asks.

"Whoever did that…" Madison points to the wreckage in front of us. "They're coming back."

 _Shit._

Madison, Travis, Daniel, and Ophelia hop up the stairs up to the captain's quarters, probably going to talk to Strand about the wreckage situation. Travis grabs a towel from Ophelia as they do, and he brings it to his hair and dries as they run.

In the brief moment of silence, I immediately stomp over to Nick, throwing my arms around his damp form tightly. He's surprised and rigid at first, but his arms go around me and his head rests atop mine after the moment. I sigh loudly into his shirt, breathing him in. _He's fine_ , I tell myself. _He's right here and fine. If I don't kill him, that is_.

"Don't you _ever_. Do that. Again, yank." I command, mumbling into his shirt. He has no response; he just holds me tightly.

Alycia heads back inside, Chris following suit with his towel wrapped around his neck.

"I thought we were supposed to stay away from each other?" Nick lowly comments. I'm not looking at his face, but I can _hear_ his smirk.

"Shut up. That doesn't work if you die in the water."

I pull my head away from his chest and look up to him. "Please don't give me a heart attack again?"

"No promises." He grins to me. His hands rub comfortingly at my forearms. "But I'll try. _That_ I can promise."

"You're an idiot, Nick Clarke."

"But I'm _your_ idiot."


	11. Chapter 11: Nightmares and Posies

_A/N: Ah, the joys of summer. Where I don't need to go to school and can spend much of my time writing and doing other things I enjoy. Like sleeping. I love sleeping. I do have work, but that's not too bad. I'm still getting a lot done here! I should be able to get another chapter out for this in the next couple of days, too, and then I'll switch gears and work towards my Walking Dead fic._

* * *

Night finally comes, and bedtime approaches. I'm not in the mood to leave a voicemail for my parents tonight, so I just hop into my tiny twin bed. I don't stop myself from reaching underneath the pillow and curling my hand around the phone, though. A small, temporary comfort as I slowly daze off to sleep.

Alycia pads through the door quietly, heading to her own mattress. She seems conflicted instead of bone tired, like she normally is at night. I wonder if she'll get any sleep.

"You okay?" I murmur. My eyes gaze to her as she pulls messy sheets around her form.

"Not really." She confesses. "I was just... trying to help, y'know? And now they're following our every move. I feel like an idiot."

She's right about Jack following us. Strand says the blip on his radar hasn't gone away since we passed the wreckage in the water. They—or someone else—is following us and they don't plan on leaving any time soon.

"You're not." I say earnestly. "You help people. You just have that personality. You can't blame yourself when he played to your strengths like that. Besides," I shuffle around, kicking the blankets around me until I deem that they've settled comfortably. "We'll be careful next time, yeah? We _learn_ from our mistakes."

"Yeah..." She responds absentmindedly. I don't think she believes it just yet. Her mind is elsewhere, probably beating herself up again. _Well, I tried._

"Try to get some sleep, Alycia, okay?" I ask. "Don't let it get to your head."

"I'll... Try, I guess." She answers with a jerky shake of her head. "On both accounts. No promises, though."

"I can work with that." I say. My legs kick around the blankets until I deem myself comfortable on my side. "Good night, love."

"Yeah, night."

* * *

 _"It's funny, how time can change our perception of a person." A familiar voice drawls. "I mean, just look at me! Oh, I've gotten_ _ **old**_ _!"_

 _"No, no, mum!" I say. The room is familiar; bright blue walls with pale white curtains covering the windows. My old twin bed is neatly made in clean, white sheets and my soft purple comforter. The two of us sit on it, careful not to ruin them too much while we converse animatedly. A dark wooden bookcase filled to the brim with fantasy novels is beside us on the right. Some medical books have overtaken the top row; lots of heavyset emergency medicine and trauma textbooks. Old stuffed animals, posters, and childhood toys litter the room. My old bedroom._

 _"Not_ _ **old**_ _! You've gained character, remember?"_

 _"_ _ **That**_ _is what I told you to tell your grandmother when she turned seventy!" Mum points out. She's right; she's older. Her hair is graying by the sides, skin a little more wrinkly. But her green eyes shine just as bright as they always have. "Now I_ _ **know**_ _I'm old, Cristina!"_

 _I giggle in defeat. "Fine, mum, you're old. Happy now?" My eyes catch my reflection in a small mirror atop a wooden dresser. I've aged, too. No longer do I have bleached blonde hair. My dark brunette locks have finally come back in full force. It's a soft bob, curling in at my chin. I never wanted to wear my hair like this, not once in my life. But mum always had it. I must be taking after her in my growing age._

 _"At least you're not lying to her anymore!" A loud, jovial tone bellows from behind my closed door. "She's a wrinkly old hag, she has to embrace it!"_

 _I gasp as my dad, aged as well, bursts through the door. "Dad! Don't say that!" His hair has completely gone salt and pepper gray, more salt than pepper. In his hands is a small blue cake, covered with swirls of blue in different shades. Pink dollops of icing decorate the border, with, "Happy 25_ _th_ _Birthday Smurfette!" written in the middle. Three yellow candles protrude from the top, unlit._

 _"Just remember Charles, while I may be old, you'll always be older." Mum points out. He sets the cake down on the top of the bookcase with ease._

 _"Yeah, yeah." Dad brushes it off as he fishes for a lighter in his pocket to light the candles of the cake. As he ignites one, he adds, "You've been saying that since Tina turned two."_

 _"Well, it's the truth!" Mum points her chin in the air elegantly, adding a playful heir of snobbiness to her tone. "Now quit wasting time and let's sing happy birthday to Tina."_

 _"Just a minute, loves." He says. With the last candle lit, the lighter is stashed in his back pocket and he picks up the cake with vigor. "Alright, the cake is on fire. Now we shout at her."_

 _I laugh, but smile bright as dad shuts the light off in the room. With ease, my parents start singing happy birthday to me, dad slowly walking his way toward me with the cake outstretched. I grin as the flames flicker in the dark._

 _"Happy birthday, dear Tina! Happy birthday to you!" They finish. Excitedly I jump in my spot on the bed, leaning forward and blowing out the candles. "Yay!" Mum and I clap in our spots as my dad hands me the cake and turns on the light._

 _"We should probably head into the kitchen to eat this." I comment. There were no plates, no table, and no silverware to actually eat the cake in my bedroom. I twist the cake in my hands, admiring the swirls of bright and dark blues._

 _"Oh, I think we let it slide—just this once!—that you're eating in your bedroom." My dad responds cheekily as he sits on the other side of me. "Seeing as you're an official, legally able to drink adult."_

" _You sure?" I question with a smirk. "I might just drop the whole bloody thing on my pristine white sheets."_

 _"Well, you're an adult now." Mum points out. "You get to either clean it or buy new ones. You don't need us for that."_

 _I scoff. "Mum, that's actual responsibility. Where's the fun in that?"_

 _Mum gives a hearty laugh as she swings an arm around my shoulder. "Sorry, sweets. Ah, I still can't believe my baby is a full-fledged adult!"_

 _"Me neither, Smurfette." Dad confesses beside me. "You'll always be my little angel. Well, little angel with horns, anyway."_

 _"How else d'you think my halo stays perched on my head?" I chuckle to him, smiling gratefully. "I love you two, even if you drive me nuts sometimes."_

 _"Trust me, the feeling's mutual!" Mum says.  
_

 _"Awe," I bring my arms around both their forms, careful to balance the cake on my lap as I pull the two close to and they smother me with love. Ah, there's nothing better than a tight hug from these two. "I need to visit you guys again soon. I promise, alright?"_

 _"Oh, if only you could." Dad murmurs above me. I feel the arms around me go limp on both sides, and I frown in concern._

 _"What'd'ya mean, dad? I'm sure the hospital would give me the time off. Mum_ _ **is**_ _a world-renowned oncologist—they probably want me learning as much as I can from her." Of course I followed in her footsteps. Maybe not the same branch, but medicine was always calling me._

 _"Of course sweetie. But that's not what he's talking about." Mum's voice becomes somber, more monotonous as the two pull away from me simultaneously. "We're dead, remember?"_

 _"Wha... What?" It feels like there's a frog in my throat as I choke out the word. My mouth goes dry, frown deepening in confusion. I look up to her on my right, waiting for a response._

 _Mum gives a sorrowful smile down to me, and she brings a hand to my cheek. She strokes the skin softly. "You remember, little dove. We're dead. You'll never have this future._ _ **Never**_ _." Her grip on my cheek tightens to the point where it's painful. Her nails scrape at my skin viciously, and I whack away her hand in fear._

 _"Mum! Stop!" I cry, desperate. In the jerky movement the cake splatters to the floor, a mix of chocolate cake and frosting splattering the hardwood floor beneath our feet._

 _When mum's hand pulls away, it's like watching fifty years of her life pass in three seconds. Her hair turns three shades of gray and thins like it's made of straw. Her barely wrinkly skin sags heavily. Her eye sockets deepen, those beautiful green orbs lazy and unmoving. Then they morph to the pale grey, lifeless forms I'm used to on the infected._

 _Her_ _ **whole body**_ _sinks into itself. All of the muscle and fat she's ever had,_ _ **gone**_ _. Mum's paper thin; skin and bones and nothing else. She's become one of the dead._

 _"No." I whimper. "No."_

 _"-_ _ **Tina, wake up**_ _."_

 _"No, what?" A gnarled voice questions behind me. That wasn't my dad, it couldn't have been._

 _I turn to face him, and I gasp in fear. The same process flows through him. His hair: gray, thinning, and only stopping once all the strands had fallen out onto my sheets. Sunken skin. Lost mass throughout his whole body. The only difference between him and my mum is that he's playing with the lighter in a bony hand. He flicks at it, the bright light of flame flickering a shadow on his skinny, sunken face._

 _Next time he flicks at the lighter, he plays with the flame with his other hand. "Dad, don't." I warn. He grins evilly, bringing his index finger to the flame, and the skin lights up as easily as gasoline._

 _"Why not, little dove?" A gravelly voice asks wickedly. It sounds like mum had eaten pebbles and they were stuck in her throat, unable to dislodge themselves. "We're dead. Remember?"_

 _"We're dead." Dad nods. He flicks the lighter again and brings the flame to his middle finger, holding the flame open long enough for the fire to spread on the ring and pinky finger. "We're dead, we're dead, we're very, very dead!" He sings out loud. The flames dance along his hand, engulfing the length of his fingers and reaching down to his palm._

 _"No, stop!"_

 _"_ _ **Tina, wake up!**_ _"_

 _"What?"_

 _"_ _ **WAKE UP NOW!**_ _"_

" _AH_!" I scream, jolting awake. I fling my sheets off of me, heart pounding at a rate far too fast for my liking. Sweat shines over my skin disgustingly.

"Oh my god," I mutter, bringing my hands to my face. I furiously rub at my eyes in attempts to get the images out of my head.

"It was just a nightmare." Alycia's by my bedside, kneeling on the ground beside my bed. Her voice is soft, soothing as she adds, "Just a nightmare. It wasn't real. You're fine, Tina."

Gently, her hand rubs calming circles onto my back, letting me get my hyperventilated breathing back to normal. "It's... It felt so real."

"I know, I know." Alycia softly says. "But it wasn't. You're okay."

I whimper, shutting my eyes tightly and slump in my messy, sweaty bed. "Did I wake anyone?" The scream _was_ jarring.

"No. It wasn't that loud. And I was already awake, so."

I nod, lulling my head to the side to hit the wall. She gives me a moment to breathe, to calm my head and sort the nightmare out. All she does is rub my back softly to let me know she's there when I'm ready. Which is good, I need that.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She softly asks, her curious hazel eyes darting up to look at me.

"No." The answer is immediate. "I don't want to think about it again."

"Okay." Alycia nods, not wanting to fight with me. "Then what do you want to do now?"

I shake my head. "I don't know." I definitely don't want to sleep again. I do _not_ want to revisit that dream. And there's only so many things one can do on a boat. "You should go to sleep, Alycia. Don't worry about me."

"Oh, bullshit. You know I'm staying right beside you 'till you feel better."

I want to both slap _and_ hug her at the same time. "Then let's go to the main deck. I want to see the water."

* * *

Alycia and I barely get any sleep. If I'm lucky, maybe it was an hour's worth. Well, something is better than nothing, isn't it? Just ignore the grogginess and lethargy I feel. She manages to catch a few more hours than me; lucky her.

Thankfully, the sun is shining bright in the sky, illuminating the water we sail through with ease. Its joyful rays and blaring light keep me awake without worry.

I'm resting my forearms on the railing, leaning over the edge to watch the boat ripple through the water. On days like this, where I don't want to think, the motion is captivating. I could stare at it for hours without getting bored. I wonder if I _have_ been.

But alas, all good things come to an end. A warm hand clapping my shoulder jostles me out of my mindless activity, and I turn to look at the owner of said hand. Travis.

"Hi." I say, raising an eyebrow at his worried face. "Something wrong?"

"We're heading to land." He explains, pulling his hand away. "There's an island close by with a deep alcove. We're gonna dock; hopefully the boat following us loses our trail."

"Gotcha." I nod. "They're still following?"

"Yeah. Strand says he's done every maneuver possible and they're still on our tail, so this is our next best bet."

"Okay," I push myself away from the rail and take a few steps to the door leading to the dining area. "I'll tell Alycia and Chris."

"Oh, one more thing." Travis says. "Nick wanted me to tell you, day four. Whatever that means."

I grin. _He's so bloody stubborn_. "I know what it means, don't worry."

"What, you two playing some weird game of telephone?"

"Something like that."

He shakes his head, muttering to himself, "You kids and your made-up games."

I chuckle inwardly. Only three more days. Who else could Nick use as his carrier pigeons?

* * *

When the dusk comes, and darkness follows, I'm glad we're docking when we are. I have reason to stay up late tonight. I'm hoping that staying awake, on watch for the infected on land, or even just helping out with the boat, keeps me moving and alert. If I pass out from exhaustion tonight, hopefully it'll keep the nightmare away. It was only one bloody nightmare, but it scared me shitless. I don't want to witness it again.

I'm on the stairs leading to the wooden platform when a flash catches my eye. _Huh?_

I squint, looking harder to Catrina Island, where we're supposed to be docking tonight. _There it is again!_ Another flash!

Lights. A house. There's people _alive_ on that island!

"Did you..?" I hear a voice behind me ask. I flip over on the stairs to look up, and it's Chris. He's standing just above, hand gripping the rail as he looks out to the land.

"Yeah." I answer, standing and hopping up the steps two at a time. "There's people."

 _Could be a godsend, could be a slaughterhouse_ , I think. Passing by Chris, I notice his set stare hardens as he looks to the house. _C'mon, love, lighten up a bit._ Then again, that's coming from me. I might be a bit hypocritical.

Still, we dock to the shore, pulling the Abigail as close in as we can to hide it from our stalker's radar. I pray it works.

Madison's the first off the boat when we land, energized enough to lead the pack to meet new people. Then Travis, Nick, Alycia, Chris, and me. We all work together to quickly tether the boat to the dock.

"You coming?" I call up to Ophelia.

She shakes her head. "I'm gonna stay here, rest up a bit."

"Are _you_ coming, Strand?" Madison asks. He's perched against the railing of the captain's quarters, long arms outstretched as he grips the metal in his hands.

"I'll stay. Make sure our radar friend moves past us. When he's gone, we're gone."

"Ophelia and I will keep you company." Daniel offers.

Strand stares down to Daniel. "Solitude doesn't bother me."

"We insist."

The two engage in a totally-not-intense-but-strangely-intense staring contest, only broken when Strand gives a reserved shrug. He backs away from the railing, pulling into his personal quarters while the rest of us begin trekking down the dock.

There's a beaten path once we make it past the gravelly beach, through the grass and shrubbery. The house's garden is what we see first before anything. Lots of vegetables and herbs happily sprouting through damp dirt. A little further down is steep wooden steps built into the earth, leading up to a quaint two-story home. The only actual building on the island, as far as I can tell.

"Someone's home." Travis whispers to us. There is one light on in the house, dimly flickering through a window pointing out to us.

 _No shit, Sherlock_ is almost said out loud. I manage to hold my tongue.

"They're not throwing their doors open." Madison comments.

"No, they're scared. We'd be scared, too."

We loop around to the front of the house, keeping our ministrations quiet.

"See anything?" Madison asks the group. _Nada._

Travis decides that the best thing to do is pull away from the rest of us, march to the front door, and start yelling to the people inside. "HELLO? HELLO!"

"Travis!" Madison hisses. "What are you doing?"

"We know you're in there. We know you're scared." Travis ignores her. He stands by himself, calling out to the person inside while the rest of us agitatedly wait by the side. "We are, too. We just need information. We're not a threat. We're not sick. We're just…"

He sighs as there's no movement inside the house. In one last act of desperation, he calls out, "We need help!"

The front door squeaks open, flung out with poor strength. A small child runs through, down the small stone steps leading to the path. He stares at us, twinkling eyes and a curious smile. His blonde hair flops onto his face, and he bats it away with an empty hand. The other holds a stuffed toy elephant.

 _A kid. There's a kid living here._

"Harry! Harry!" An older voice bellows from inside the house. An older gentleman makes hasty steps to the door, calling out for the boy. "Get back in here." I take quick note of the thinning gray hair, oval glasses, and the pajamas he wears. Doesn't look like he was expecting company. _Then who flashed the light? The child?_

Harry, the child, nods to whom I'm assuming is his father, and he scampers through the door. Another small figure peaks through the frame, a little girl with brown pigtails and wandering eyes. There's a woman behind the two youngsters, an arm around each kid protectively. _A whole bloody family._

"Sorry, he's excited to see people." The dad apologizes. He takes a step down, looking out to the spread out group in wonder. "It's been a while."

"We just saw your light come on." Madison explains. "We were on the water."

The man shares a look with the woman. I'm assuming from the guarded body language _she_ was the one who did it.

"That was an accident." He says.

Travis takes a few tentative steps forward, a hand outstretched to the stranger. "I'm Travis. Travis Manawa."

"George Geary." The stranger shakes hands with Travis. "What can I do for you, Travis Manawa?"

"We had to drop anchor." Travis gives a simple explanation. "It's no safer on sea than on land."

George eyes Travis. "What makes you think here is safe?"

"We just need to get our bearings and we'll be gone. You have nothing to fear from us."

"George." The woman says softly. The two share another look, and he gives a silent nod. She looks out to us, and smiles. "I'm Melissa. This is Willa," she brings both hands to the young girls' shoulders. "You've already met Harry. Come on inside."

We're welcomed luke-warmly by the family. Travis follows George into the study to talk about what areas are still safe, and Madison and Melissa chat in the kitchen. Melissa, in an overly warming gesture, offers glasses of red wine to all of us.

"Oh, no thank you. We're not 21." I say, not wanting to be rude. My parents were never big fans of alcohol. Mum was always explaining the adverse effects of it throughout middle school and high school. High strung? Yes. But she was always right, too.

"Oh, I'm sure a glass wouldn't hurt, would it?" Melissa asks, holding one out to me.

Madison gives a non-committal shrug. "Just one, kids."

Warily, I take the glass in my hand and give a quiet thanks. She hands one out to Alycia and Nick, too, but when she tries to hand one out to Chris, Madison objects. "He's only sixteen. Maybe we keep him on water for now."

Chris looks like he doesn't really give a damn, so he takes the water in the fancy wine glass and strides over to the rocking chair in the living room, where Willa and Harry are playing.

"Why don't you three follow him?" Madison suggests. "Keep an eye on the kids?"

"Sure, mom." Alycia answers, taking a small sip of her wine before trudging to the worn out couch resting on a wall.

I follow suit, sitting beside her as I take a tentative sip of the alcohol. The first thing I note is the aroma; the slight smell of cherries and cranberries. When the liquid reaches my lips, it has a distinct bitterness to it. It's almost savory. I scrunch my nose, not quite hating it but not liking it either. Weird.

"Do you wanna play ring around the rosie?" A high voice asks me. Willa runs over to me, her small hands grabbing at my free one. "It's fun!"

I look over to Alycia. If I need to do it, so does she. "Can Alycia play with us?"

"Sure!" Willa brings a hand to Alycia's and tugs at her with the same vigor she tugged at me.

"Give her a moment, hon. We need to put down our glasses." I say. I take another sip of the wine and set it gently on the coffee table beside the couch. Through the corner of my eye I see Nick sitting in the single-seater couch by a set of stairs. Harry trudges up said stairs with pounding feet. _Probably to his bedroom._

Willa giggles, her hands going to play with her hair as she waits for us. "You sound funny."

"Do I?" I ask. She gives a silly nod. I try to even out my accent, putting on my best southern American I could muster. "How about now, darlin'? Is this weird?" The twang is hard, but it makes Willa laugh even more.

"That's weirder!" She says with joy.

"Well, how do you want me to sound?!" I say with my normal accent. I stand up as Alycia sets her glass down, amused at the interaction. "Like this, or," I switch back to the overly used twang, "This?"

"The first way. I think its cooler."

"It _can_ be cool and weird at the same time, huh?"

"Mmhmm. Now c'mon! I wanna play ring around the rosie!" Alycia and I pull ourselves off to the side, giving ourselves some room to fall on the ground. I grasp one of Alycia's hands, then Willa's, and we form a small circle. "Ready? When I say go!"

We wait a beat, and she says, "Go!" The three of us takes small steps in a circle, sing the song, and gently fall to the floor when we reach the end. I pull a decently dramatic fall and manage to make Willa laugh some more. She's a sweet kid. It makes me smile.

"Can we go again? Please?" Willa begs. I share a look with Alycia, and we both come to the conclusion that we can make at least one more dramatic fall. As we stand up, I hear Harry's soft voice ask Nick if he wants to play one of his handheld toy games that he won. Nick, of course, makes a jovial gesture, saying that he would _love_ to play.

Alycia, Willa, and I play ring around the rosie again, and again, and a third time. By the time Willa asks for a fourth round, I say that Alycia and I will sit this one out. "We're old and we get dizzy easily," is my excuse. Willa nods and opts to play it with her toy doll as Alycia and I sit back on the couch, sipping slowly at our wine.

"-And we all fall down!" She reaches the end and dramatically falls to the floor, her doll flying a few inches away from her. Then Willa frowns. "What are posies?"

"Posies are flowers." I answer.

"Why do you put them in your pockets?"

"Um, well, a long time ago," Alycia starts, "across the ocean in Europe, there was a virus that made a lot of people really sick. And they didn't have the medicine we do now, so they gave them flowers to make them healthy."

"Did it work?" Willa asks. She looks thoughtful, lost in the story as she looks at Alycia curiously.

"No." She answers truthfully. I frown. Poor kid shouldn't have to hear that.

"Nick, you want to come see our room?" Harry asks Nick, who's still shooting away at the aliens in the handheld game.

"Yeah, let's do it." Nick answers, clicking away at the buttons a couple more times before handing the toy back to the kid. He stands from his chair and follows closely behind Harry. As he passes by Chris, he asks, "Hey, man, you want to come check out Harry's room?"

"I'm good." Chris answers, nearly monotonous. No head shake, no glance up. Just the two words in a dull tone. _He isn't doing well._

"Look, you don't have to talk or anything, but it is better to be with people." Nick tells him. _Awe, how sweet._

"It's okay." This time Chris looks up, giving him a soft nod.

"Okay." Nick says, and he turns back to Harry and chases him up the stairs. "Okay, let's go, let's go, let's go!" I smile at the interaction; _he's really good with kids_.

"Hey, Tina," Willa pushes at my leg with her small hand. "Do you want to play tea party with me?"

I take a small sip of my wine before grinning to her. "I _love_ tea."

* * *

It's worse than we expected. The whole coast, most of America, all gone. At least, that's what George told Travis. It hurts to think that it's true, but I know it is. If it managed to hit all the way into London—if that is _truly_ what I heard on my phone call almost a month ago—then the world is gone.

I don't know what I was expecting, but I was hoping it'd be better than this.

The trek back to the boat is quiet, except for Madison and Travis quietly chatting away a few paces ahead of us. After a quick chat with Strand, we decide the best course of action is to stay docked until tomorrow. Our friendly stalker is still on our radar, but blinking further and further away. _Good._

Alycia and I hop into our bedroom, and I'm feeling more exhausted than before. I hope it means I can get a good night's sleep tonight.

"Where are you going?" I ask as I set myself into bed. Alycia's still standing, but she's yanked her comforter off her mattress and thrown it around her shoulders.

"Heading up to the deck." She replies softly, voice trailing off. She's tired, but not quite ready for bed. "I drank too much wine. My head is spinning."

"Okay. Well, I'll be here. Good night, burrito 'Lych."

"Night, normal Tina." I shut my eyes as I hear the door shut. My hand instinctively curls around the phone underneath my pillow. Blinking once, twice, and breathing a deep sigh, I'm finally ready for bed.

* * *

 _"I love what you've done with the place!" I exclaim. The small dining room, which used to be done in hideous wood paneling, had been completely redone. The ceiling was pushed out, offering a gentle dome-like curve at the top. The smooth walls were painted an off-white after getting rid of the panels. The floor's now a dark black tile that shone each time the light from the generously tall windows beamed through. It barely resembles my childhood home. "Stunning!"_

 _"Awe, thank you love!" My mother's cheery voice matches my level of excitement. "Be sure to tell your father. He worked very hard on it."_

 _"_ _ **Dad**_ _did this?" I ask. I take a seat at the head of a long dark wood table. The chairs are tall and elegant, far too much for the room before the renovations. "Please tell me he had some help."_

 _"Sure, sure, from a couple professionals, but he decided he wanted to do most of it." Mum says, sitting to the left of me. Her hands enfold one of mine as we chat animatedly. A diamond gleams on my ring finger, barely visible between her fingers but was still the talk of the party not even an hour earlier. "He must be going through a midlife crisis. Seeing as his only daughter is officially turning 25."_

 _"His only daughter is going to kill him if he decides to renovate without help again." I warn, trying to create an evil glare but ultimately failing. I'm too happy to even try and hold it. "Seriously, mum, if he breaks his back I'm not paying a pound on his medical bill."_

 _"Well, that's a_ _ **wonderful**_ _thing to hear from my successful, loving daughter." He strolls in with the Clarkes, Travis, and Chris trailing close behind him. "I go to take our lovely friends on a tour of the house and_ _ **this**_ _is the thanks I get?"_

 _The family seems to be done up a bit more than usual. The boys all wear different colored button down shirts and black pants, hair done neatly and smiling widely. Alycia wears a gorgeous red sundress with her hair done in loose curls. Madison wears black pants and a pale green blouse. I've never seen them like this, but they're stunning._

 _"I'm talking about you fixing up the house again." I defend. "If you try to renovate without professionals and you hurt yourself, that's on you."_

 _"Oh, be nice to him." Nick tells me. He strides up behind my chair, hands gripping both sides of the back, and plants a chaste kiss on my cheek that I lean into happily. "He did great work in here."_

 _"I know." I reply, twisting to look better at him. "But if he breaks a hip I'm not gonna cry at his bedside; I_ _ **told**_ _him to get help."_

 _Nick flicks his eyes to my father's, who's by the fridge in the kitchen, easily visible through the open doorway. "I tried, Mr. Waters."_

 _"You're an honorable man, Nick!" Dad shouts as he pulls the cake out of the fridge. "Thank you for trying to defend my honor. And I've told you, Charles is just fine."_

 _"You better be helping him next time." I tell Nick._

 _"Only if you pay for my plane ticket." He cheekily responds, softly kissing me before taking a seat across from my mum, on the right of the table._

 _"Oh, gross!" Alycia makes a face of disgust as she sits beside my mum, neatly pressing out the wrinkles in her dress._

 _"PDA. Nasty!" Chris adds, pretending to vomit._

 _"I think I liked it better when Tina was secretly pining after you," Alycia adds. I playfully roll my eyes at her.  
_

 _"Oh, babe, you had a crush on me?" Nick asks, teasing._

 _Raising an eyebrow, I deadpan, "We're married."_

 _"I know, but still."_

 _Alycia rolls her eyes playfully. "You know she doesn't get the reference. She doesn't like the show."_

 _I look between the two of them as Nick retorts, "Parks and Rec was a gift to this world, and I'm happy I still have the three seasons on DVD."_

 _"Oh, you two, stop bickering." Madison takes a seat beside Nick, and Travis sits beside her. Chris takes a seat beside Alycia as Madison adds, "It's Tina's birthday. I won't have you ruin it with old pop culture references."_

 _"Thank you, Maddy." Mum smiles playfully to her friend across the table. Then she turns back to Nick. "Remind me, love, what do you do for work?"_

 _"I'm currently working towards my degree in psychology, specifically in the drug addiction and counseling area. Work with what you know, right? It feels good to be helping people, especially when I know what they're going through. Helps to make that connection with my patients."_

 _"That's wonderful." Mum says, eyes twinkling._

 _"You know what she's gonna say next, right, Nick?" Travis asks._

 _"Then you can buy your own bloody ticket!" Mum laughs to him. After her own laughter dies down, she cocks her head to the open doorway into the kitchen. "Charles, almost ready with the cake?"_

 _"Yup!" My dad answers. "The cake is on fire, now we shout at her!"_

 _Wait, I know that phrase._

 _The fear strikes a chord in my chest._ _ **No, don't happen again. Please.**_

 _My heart beats erratically in my chest as my father slowly makes his way into the room, my whole family singing happy birthday to me. I frown as I see the same cake as last time: blue swirls, pink border and wording, three lit yellow candles. My hands go to floof the bottom of my hair and, sure enough, I have mum's bob from last time._ _ **No.**_

 _"Happy birthday dear Tina! Happy birthday to you!" My family choruses. My dad stands beside me, holding out the cake at my height. The flames of the candles flicker around my face. I don't want to blow them out._

 _Like I can't control myself, I lean forward and purse my lips. And I blow._

 _Like a scene change in a movie, the entire room switches. The bright sunlight streaming through the windows is replaced by a midnight gleam. Chairs are pushed over, bodies lying like ragdolls on the floor. The cake is on the table, mashed and beaten._

 _I'm shaking in place. I don't want to see this. I don't want to see this._

 _My eyes, wide with fear, go to the ground on my left. In order is my mother, then Alycia, and Chris. Blood pours from mum's throat as easily as water. It was slashed open, and blood pools around her neck from the wound. A bullet hole rests in the middle of Alycia's forehead. Her eyes, wide and unmoving, stare blankly at the ceiling as the blood gathers in a halo around her head. Chris has bite marks on his neck, cheek, and scalp. It's like the dead tried to devour him._

 _I don't want to look to the right. I repeat the phrase out loud, at least a dozen times, each time my voice growing in desperation._

 _But I do. I don't have control._

 _Dad's limbs are contorted, bent in awkward angles by elbows and knees. Stab wounds. That's how he died. They litter his old form, from his chest to his stomach up to his neck. Then I see Nick. A single bullet hole in his chest. In his heart. The blood seeps on the floor, surrounding his form just like the blood from Alycia's shot._

 _Madison and Travis; it looks like they went out fighting together. Bruises and cuts cover them from head to toe. I don't know what happened to them,_ _ **how**_ _it could have happened, but it's right here for me to see._

 _And I scream._

When I wake, it's the same as last time. I pull myself forward, throw my blankets off, shrieking. My whole body is sweating buckets. The only difference is that Alycia isn't in the room.

"No, not again!" I whimper out in anger. Furiously, my hands fly to my face, rubbing at my eyes and willing the thoughts away. "Why?"

And I think really hard about the question. Why did it happen? Why am I having these nightmares? Why? _Why?_ _**Why?**_

I breathe steadily, letting my hands drop from my face. In curiosity I look at the time on the clock. 1:56 AM. It hasn't even been a full hour yet. Alycia must still be on the deck. I decide that the best decision is to call my mum. To talk it out; to see what's wrong with me.

" _Hello! This is the voicemail of Laura Allen-Waters. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as fast as I can_." I listen to the rest of the message agitatedly, waiting for the robot to tell me to leave a message.

"Mum..." I say, my voice shaking. And I realize my hand is shaking. "I'm hav... I'm having nightmares. Really vivid ones."

Okay, good start. Work through them. "They start out amazingly. Like really good dreams. One that you hope is possible to achieve in real life. Then they flip. They're—god, they're _awful_. I keep seeing you and dad, and even others, dead. I watch you die."

I take a breath, and shut my eyes.

"It's you." I realize quietly.

"It's you." I say louder. "You're the reason I'm having nightmares."

My words blur together as I reach the conclusion. "I don't know if it's because I'm calling you or if I'm just in denial, but you're dead and you're the reason why I'm having nightmares."

Brokenly, I let out a choked sob. "I'm in denial. You're dead, and _still_ I call you and talk to you. Like you could call me back and we can gossip about our days. Like you're not dead. But you are. You're _dead_." I repeat it, my sobs becoming louder. "You're dead, mum. You and dad are dead and I can't _fathom_ to even think it. If I call you, if I act like you're fine when I _know_ you're not, I'm not letting myself grieve."

It's like I'm shouting into the receiver. All my anger and grief, mixing into one. "But you are dead. _Why_?! Why could you leave me in a world like this?" Tears flow freely down my face, tear after tear dripping down my chin. "You always told me I was your little girl; I always would be. That's what I am, mum! I'm a little girl and I don't know what I'm doing. And you left me! Why would..." I hiccup, palming away my tears.

My voice is quieter now, small as I ask, "Why would you leave me?"

I allow myself to cry, to let out every emotion I've kept under check out into this message. If I don't, I know these nightmares will get worse. I need to let myself grieve.

When my tears stop and I can breathe easy, I say one last line into the phone. "I need you now, more than anything. And you left me. I need to deal with that. Alone."

* * *

 _A/N: I would like you all to know, that when I was writing this, I legitimately thought, "Good god, I'm an awful person." And still I wrote the nightmare scenes. Ah, I'm mean. Life on the boat can't always be paradise, can't it?_

 _If you enjoyed it (or want to yell at me for putting Tina through more pain, your choice,) please leave a review or send a PM! They really make my day/night/existence. :)_


	12. Chapter 12: Grief and Sleep

_A/N: Yay, another chapter out! I'm really feeling this story right now; I love writing it. So, here's another fricken LONG one! We're almost to day seven, too ;) I can't wait until these day are done, just like you guys._

 _And real quick, before the chapter begins, I just want to have a quick shoutout to RedVelvetPanPan and Shadow knight 1121 for reviewing these last couple of chapters! Thank you guys so much :D Since no one else has left a review lately, I'm assuming you're the only two reading this, ha. But that's okay with me; you two are on one hell of a ride!_

 _Update as of **5/10/19** : Two other people have reviewed since! awfulwaffel and Stef! Thank you all so much! _

* * *

I try to fall back asleep, I really do, but it seems like I'll have another sleepless night on the Abigail. I'm frustrated and pissed off, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm unable to rest. So I try the next best thing.

Quietly, I pad up the steps to the main deck, quickly finding Alycia resting on the floor. The comforter tightly curls around her and covers most of her head; only her eyes and nose barely peak through. Nick rests beside her, still in his old man outfit, both looking up at the stars.

"Room for one more?" I quietly ask.

"Take a seat, Pete." Alycia answers, shuffling in the comforter to gesture to the side of her. I take the answer happily, flopping on the ground and letting my hair fly around in a messy halo. Then I focus my eyes on the stars. Bright, shining, twinkling. _Wonder if I can find the scorpious constellation Chris was talking about._ My eyes search for a curved line and pitchfork-like end, but to no avail. But that's fine; the stars give me comfort anyways.

It's something I need tonight; comfort. And this is as close as I'm gonna get to it.

* * *

The next day rolls around, and at breakfast I grab coffee instead of my normal tea. It's absolutely disgusting and bitter, _even_ with sugar and cream added, but I need caffeine in my system. I try to down it without gagging too much.

My insomnia is starting to show. Dark circles form under my eyes. But in this world, with the dead roaming around, I can't afford that. I have to be alert 24/7. I can't chance anything. I'm not letting these nightmares win.

Strand tells us that the blimp is farther away now, much farther than before, so the second it's gone from view we're heading back to sea. It shouldn't take too long. Barely a day, hopefully.

A few of us head to shore anyway, just to tell George and his family that we should be gone before nightfall. I follow, too, not because of that, but because I want to spend a little more time with Willa and Harry. We're probably the only new people they'll see for a good long while. Let them have some fun with us before they're stuck with their family for who knows how long.

With two quick raps on the front door, I patiently wait for the wood to swing open. Because, y'know, manners in the apocalypse are important.

Melissa answers the door, smiling when she sees me. "Hi, Tina."

"Tina!" Willa exclaims when she hears my name. Her little legs sprint to the door, quickly running over to give me a hug. Her spaghetti arms make their way around my middle, and I chuckle.

"Hey, kiddo." I grin down to her. My hand rests on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze before she pulls away.

"Looks like you have an admirer." Melissa comments. I nod. "That's good—good for Willa. She was always a little shy, so having friends is… It's good."

"Mooom!" Willa whines. "That's embarrassing!"

"It's okay, love." I say. "I'm shy, too. Very shy."

Another face invades my vision, one I'm not too familiar with. I remember his name—Seth, the older kid—but I barely met him last night at our impromptu wine-and-babysit night.

He barely looks at me before striding to the open door, a pickaxe in hand. I try not to stare at the dried blood splattered on the hilt. "I'm going to the fence, mom. You okay?"

"Yeah," she smiles to him. "Yeah, we're good here. Be safe."

"Can do." He throws a hand over his shoulder to wave goodbye before hopping down the steps and trailing off to the left. _Nice to meet you, too._

"Why don't you and Tina head upstairs to draw for a bit?" Melissa offers to Willa, turning my attention back down to the munchkin.

I look down to her. "How's that sound, kiddo? I can draw some great stick figures."

"I wanna try and make a dragon!" She excitedly tells me. Her hand grasps at mine, pulling me away from her mother.

I wave at Melissa with my other hand. "I guess I'm being kidnapped. I'll talk to you later!"

She laughs and waves back before Willa and I pass the corner into their living room, and I bound up the steps to her room.

"Alright, so we have dragon on the list, what else do you want to draw?" I ask. Willa pulls out a small, dark blue plastic table from the corner of the room into the middle so we can sit beside it.

"I want to draw a princess, a prince, and even a knight!" She says as she drops to the floor, looking underneath the bunk beds. She sticks her hands underneath and pulls out a plastic container filled to the brim with crayons, colored pencils, and other arts and crafts materials. "Ooh, and a _huge_ pink castle! What do you want to draw, Tina?"

I grab a blue crayon, along with a purple one and a green one. Willa takes a couple papers out of the stack she has on her desk and sets them haphazardly on the table. "I'm thinking… How does a mermaid sound?"

"Mermaids are pretty!"

"Yes, they are. Maybe I'll even draw some fish, and seaweed too." I tap the purple crayon against my chin, looking up to the ceiling as if in thought. Then I look back down to Willa, a gleam in my eye. "How about an octopus?"

"An octopus?" She scrunches her nose in disagreement. "That's weird."

"Ursula was an octopus in The Little Mermaid! And she had eels."

"Eels are even weirder."

"That settles it!" I proclaim, setting the purple crayon to a blank paper. "I'm drawing _only_ octopi and eels today. They will be the best drawings I have ever made, mark my words."

She laughs at my overzealous tone, but shrugs. " _Okay_ , Tina. I'll have fun drawing my princess in her castle."

I laugh back. "Deal."

* * *

Two _gorgeous_ (horrid) octopi, a swarm of eels, and an Ariel later, my hand starts to cramp from all the doodles. I set my ocean blue colored pencil on the table, and hold up my drawing proudly for Willa to look at. "What do you think?"

She looks at it for a long time, a hard glare gracing her features. Considering it's only Ariel floating in a sea of water, with a poorly done tail and purple-shelled bra, I'm bracing myself for the worst.

Then she smiles. "I like it!"

"Yay!" I say jovially. I set the paper down neatly, and take the red colored pencil I used for Ariel's hair. "I'm gonna sign it, then." I spell out my full first name in block letters so Willa can read it easily. "Remember Willa, whenever you paint or draw, always be sure to put your name on it. That way people will know who made it."

"Okay. I'm a great speller, so I'll put my name on here right now."

"Good." When she finishes her name, she proudly holds up her drawing. I gasp for emphasis, "Oh, _wow_. Good work, Willa!"

Granted, she used only crayons so the lines aren't too defined, but she put a lot of work into it. The princess on the left wears a long purple dress, with large dots of yellow on the end to resemble jewels. The castle—which she indeed made pink—has one large pike in the middle, and what I'm assuming is supposed to be a stone wall along the bottom. Her knight has armor made in silver/gray, with his face plate open. He's smiling to the princess. At the very top of the page is her name, drawn in yellow crayon. Towards the bottom right corner of the page is a green blob with a long yellow and green tail, and a frown on the oval-shaped face.

"I feel bad for your dragon. He doesn't look like he's having fun."

"Well, he's a dragon." Willa shrugs, setting the paper down and grabbing another blank one to work on. "He's mean, and he tried to ruin the princess's happy ending. But he didn't, the knight defeated him. Now his happy ending is ruined."

"Don't you think the dragon could try to be nicer, and he could have a happy ending, too?" I say. I always hated that there was never a book where _all_ the characters lived happily ever after as a kid. I loved the dragons, even if they were mean. "Maybe he and the knight could work together to defend the princess and keep the kingdom safe."

"No." Willa shakes her head. "The dragon doesn't think like we do. He couldn't be nicer, even if he tried. It's not how dragons behave. Just like when those sick people wash up on the beach."

I frown at her words, but add no more. It's just a picture. If that's what she wants to believe—and she _should_ think that way about the infected—who am I to stop her? It's best she never goes near them, and if this is the way she keeps her distance, then good.

I just wish she didn't _have_ to think this way. She and Harry should be able to live in a normal childhood, not in a post-apocalyptic shithole.

A slight ruffle from the room next to us pulls me out of my thoughts. I look over to Willa curiously. "Who do you think that was?"

Willa fixes her paper to line up with the edge of the table precisely before standing. "It sounded like it came from my daddy's study. I'll go check."

"Okay." I nod. "I'll stay here and try to draw Rapunzel." It, and The Princess and the Frog, were the last two Disney movies to come out, before the world ended. Willa seemed to enjoy talking about the movie, so I'm sure I could draw something resembling the blonde before my group goes back on the Abigail.

She nods quickly, saying, "Okay!" before trekking off to the next room over.

I make a quick outline of Rapunzel's dress in purple as I listen to the encounter in the other room. "Hi Nick!"

I smile to myself as he joyously says, "Hey! Willa!" I hear more shuffling before he adds, "Where is everybody?"

"Come draw with me and Tina."

"Oh, I-I can't draw. No, no, no." He replies. I can hear the playful air of his tone.

"Draw!"

"Alright. Alright, come on. What should we draw?" The light sound of footsteps gets closer as they walk back down the hall.

"Well, Tina's drawing Rapunzel, and I already drew a princess, a knight, and even a dragon!"

The two are holding hands when they walk through the door. Nick smiles as she lets go of his, scampering to grab her finished paper. She holds it out for him to see. "Oh, look at that! That's a _great_ drawing! You should be an artist when you grow up."

"I want to be," Willa confesses. She and Nick sit on the floor, on opposite sides of the table. Willa's right in front of me, and Nick is to the left. "But daddy and mommy say I need to be the gardener here when I'm older. We need to keep our vegetables and fruits alive so we have something to eat."

I frown again as I add Rapunzel's face onto my paper. My hand circles around and around in emerald green to make her eyes. _Poor kid._ But I fake optimism as I say, "Well, who says you can't be both? You could draw tomatoes and carrots. Talk about _beautiful_ muses." Willa lets out a small chuckle as she grabs sap green from her plastic box.

"Alright, what do you want to draw now, Willa?" Nick asks. I note he finally changed his shirt from his outfit. Instead of the horrid stripes, he's decided to wear a blue polo from the Abigail. _At least this one properly fits him. The other was too big for his lanky form._ _Besides_ , I mentally hum in appreciation, _he looks good in blue_.

"I'm gonna draw frogs now!" Willa exclaims. "Just like Tiana and Naveen from The Princess and the Frog!"

I scoff playfully. "And you call me weird for drawing Ursula and her eel henchmen."

"At least Tiana and Naveen are the good guys. Ursula and her eels are evil."

"My octopi still came out spectacular, at least."

Nick shuffles through the finished drawings we've set aside, and curiously picks one up. It happens to be my first octopus, where I couldn't quite get the hang of drawing tentacles, so they came out looking like purple half-cooked spaghetti instead. I _also_ tried to make it two-toned, so it's in both dark purple and lavender. It did not come out well. He holds it out to me, raising an eyebrow.

"See, Willa, isn't it great?" I nod proudly, barely containing my laughter.

"It's... Unique, Tina." She giggles.

"Ah, unique. That's a great word, isn't it?" Nick says as he puts the drawing back down. "Always comes in handy at a time like this."

"Mmhmm."

"Oh, I dare you two to try and make octopi." I stick my tongue out at Willa.

"Nah. I'm gonna make my frogs now. Should I put a tiara on Tiana?"

"Absolutely." Nick answers. I nod silently.

By the time the three of us start drawing pictures, a long stretch of silence follows. It's peaceful as I finish up my drawing of Rapunzel, complete with her very own frying pan resting on a hook behind her, and a green blob on her shoulder to represent Pascal, her trusty chameleon. I sign the bottom of it, of course, and set it aside in the finished pile. Then I get to work on drawing Mulan in her armor. I want to attempt to create a cherry blossom tree in the background, but I'm not sure exactly how that'll come to fruition.

"Aaaand, done!" Willa proclaims, holding out her drawing for me and Nick to see.

Indeed, the green blobs resemble frogs. She has them sitting side by side on the longer end of the paper. She used yellow blotches on the frogs to change the color of the green in some areas. Not only is the pair in one shade of green, but in three. One for the general body, a second to create shadows on said body, and the third to create a shadow on the stretch of white behind the frogs. However, all the greens were too close in shade to differentiate between them in some areas, but still. Tiana's crown is in pink, of course, barely connected to the top of the frogs' head.

I grin at it; it's a great drawing.

"Wow, Willa, that amazing!" Nick exclaims.

"Thank you." She responds cheekily. "What do you think, Tina?"

"I think it's great! You made really great frogs, love!"

"And look, I even put my name on top! Just like you said I should." She points to her blocky lettering at the very top of the page in the sap green.

"You're a great speller too, huh?" Nick asks.

"Mmhmm!" She nods matter-of-factly. "I'm really good at it."

"Think you could spell something out for me?"

"Sure!"

He leans forward and whispers something in her ear, out of my hearing zone. I have a pretty decent idea as to what he's asking, though. I grin silently to myself and look down at my paper, focusing on Mulan's armor. It's not like I could intervene and tell him to stop. That would break the rule, and I've already done that once.

So I shut up, keep drawing Mulan, and wait patiently for his bloody message to be delivered.

Willa scribbles out a note in blue, her writing large but at least in a line. I try not to peak at the pair.

"Can I put a heart on it?" She asks, trying to be quiet and serious. She even cups her hand to his ear in hopes the sound wouldn't travel. But alas, she's a kid, and hasn't quite mastered the art of whispering.

"Sure, why not?"

"Okay!" She fishes in the bin for a red crayon and quickly doodles one out. Then she sets the crayon back down and proudly walks over to me, handing me the note.

I chuckle quietly as I silently read out, "Day five. From, Nick." on the paper. Right by his name Willa decided to put a red heart with uneven lines. I thank her for the note with a grin.

Then she leans in close to my ear, cupping it as she did with Nick. "I think he likes you," she hisses out with a giggle.

I look over to him then back to her, and I cup my hand to her ear. "I think so, too." In my mind, I flash back to the kiss we shared in Strand's bathroom. _I know so, sweetheart._ "Wanna make a note for him?"

She quickly nods and I flip the note to the other side and hand her a green crayon.

"Alright, let's start with..." I lean in close to her and whisper, "You."

She scribbles out the word quickly, and I whisper, "Are. A. Dork."

She scrunches her nose at the last word, stalling to write it down. "That's mean, isn't it?!"

"Only if I wanted to hurt his feelings." I explain. "I'm just playing around. I'm his friend; he knows I'm not being serious, so he won't take it seriously."

"If you say so." She finishes the paper and quickly adds, "From Tina," to the bottom. "Wanna add a heart on here, too?"

"Sure." I nod. She scribbles a heart by my name and hands it over to Nick, who takes it with ease.

"Thank you, Willa." He graciously takes the note with a smirk. "Tell Tina I'll treasure it always."

I roll my eyes at him, saying nothing back.

Then he stands from his spot, leaving the note on the table. "Well, ladies, it was fun, but I have to head back to the boat. I need to talk to my mom to see if we're leaving soon."

"Aweee!" Willa whines. "Okay. Will you come back?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure."

"Tina, will you stay and draw with me, then?"

Nick can go down and talk to Madison and Travis alone, so I nod. "Sure, sweetheart."

"Yay!"

Nick waves goodbye to us as he makes his way to the door. "Bye, ladies."

Once he's gone and I can hear his footsteps down the stairs, I turn back to Willa. "Alright. What should we draw next?"

* * *

"Willa! Time to pack your bags!"

"Huh?" Willa and I share a look of confusion over the table as we hear her mother's voice. Melissa runs to the room, Harry in tow, and clarifies. "The Clarkes and Tina are gonna take you and Harry for a ride on their boat. You'll get to be pirates for a couple of days, how does that sound?"

I frown at her words. Strand would _never_ agree to that. Madison would, Travis would, but the owner of the bloody boat would throw these kids to the current the second he could.

Which means Strand doesn't know. Madison and Travis are doing this under the radar. _Why?_ The question remains in my head, but I follow along with Melissa.

"That sounds like fun, mommy!" Willa jumps from her spot on the ground. Her little legs take her to her large closet, where she pulls an old, beaten pink suitcase from the back, resting on the wall. Harry trails close behind her, grabbing his dark blue one.

"What's it like living on a boat?" Harry asks me curiously.

As Willa opens up a dresser, I help her find some of her clothes and stuff them into the suitcase. We should be able to fit enough in there to last her a few days. "It's a lot of fun! We eat fish almost every night, but that's because we catch it and make it ourselves."

"Can you teach _me_ to fish?" Willa asks.

"I don't know how to." I say honestly. "One of our other friends on the boat does. Maybe he can teach you!"

Melissa roughly shoves a shirt into Harry's pack as she requests, "Tell us more. What do you get to do on there?"

"Well, mostly we just get to hang out on the deck and look at the water. It sounds boring, but sometimes you can see the fishes and dolphins swimming. It's like a hard game of eye spy. And if we're going slow, maybe we can go swimming in the water."

"Oh, swimming!" Melissa mutters. "Gotta pack swimsuits, right, kids? Oh, and some toys, too. Willa, remember to grab your elephant."

"Of course, mommy. Can we pack some crayons and colored pencils, too?"

"Take whatever you want, sweetie. Whatever you can pack. I just want you and your brother to have a lot of fun out there, okay?"

It's hard to miss her choking back a breath at the end, like she's trying not to cry. _Oh, this isn't just for a few days, is it?_

"Okay, we have clothes, swimsuits, crayons, paper, your stuffed animals, Harry's game. What else?"

"I think that's it, mom." Harry says.

"Okay." She swats a piece of hair out of her face before she grabs the cases from her children's hands. "Okay. Do you two wanna look around, see if you want to grab anything else before going? And Tina and I will head downstairs?"

The kids share a look and shrug. Willa says, "Sure," for the pair.

I offer to take Willa's suitcase from Melissa's hands, which she graciously thanks. Before we leave the room, she grabs another stuffed animal and a large toy slingshot by the door, clutching to them tightly. Silently, we trek down the stairs with the suitcases, where we're met by Madison, Travis, and Nick.

"They'll be right down."

Travis takes the suitcases from our hands as Madison asks, "Do they understand?"

"Um, I told them they were going on a boat ride. They'd be back in a couple of days. They're excited about it. Tina talked about it, and they wanna try fishing." She laughs nervously.

"We'll take care of them." Madison says earnestly. Her hands go to Melissa's forearms, holding her tightly. "I _promise_ you, we'll keep them safe."

Melissa hands the slingshot to Madison with shaking hands. "Uh, this-this is Harry's. He gets scared at night. He pretends not to, but he ends up crawling in his sister's bed. We've been trying to discourage him from that, but I think it's okay, y'know? If he does that, it's okay."

"And Willa," Melissa blinks away tears as she smiles painfully, "her hair is-she has this hair," she brings her hand to her hair, motioning herself brushing it. "She'll cry if you comb it, so just wait 'till you shampoo and put conditioner in it and it'll be a lot easier. And-"

"What's going on?" A deep voice asks, hidden away from my eyesight. When I lean over to see past Melissa, I see George in the open doorway of the living room.

 _You didn't know?_ Strand doesn't know, George doesn't know.

 _Shit, we're smuggling the kids onto the boat._

"George-" Travis starts slowly, setting the suitcases onto the floor before taking a cautious step over.

George cocks his head between all of us, landing on Melissa accusingly. " _What is this?!_ Melissa?"

"George." She says softly. She opens her mouth to speak again as she takes a few cautious steps in his direction, but she isn't allowed a chance to.

"Why?" He asks, stepping away from us. Pointedly, away from _her_. "Why?"

"Listen to me. I love you. I love our family. But we have to give them a chance."

My focus twists over to the stairs, where Harry slowly descends. Not smiling, not even bouncing like he normally does. He's staring widely to his parents, brows furrowing and grip tight on the railing. _What's wrong, kiddo?_

"I can't look at them every day and see nothing for them, I just can't." Melissa continues.

"Mama?" Harry says, softly but full of emotion. _Fear?_

"What, sweetie?" She pulls away from George and turns to the stairs, walking to Harry. "What's wrong?" He doesn't say anything, but he stares blankly to her. He's not fearful, he's _terrified._

Melissa even feels it, and she bends down to look at him. Her hands grip at his as she asks, firmly, "What's wrong? Tell me. Tell mommy."

Harry's eyes look over to George before landing back on Melissa. "Something's wrong with Willa."

Hearing that strikes a chord in my chest. What the fuck happened in the two minutes we were gone for?!

Melissa jumps from her spot, running up the stairs with George in tow. "Stay here. _Don't move_ , Harry. Stay right there."

I immediately walk over to Harry, bending my knees so I can look up to him. "What happened to her, love?" I will my voice not to shake as I ask the question. _Please be okay._

Movement from behind me catches my eye, and I turn to see Nick push past Madison and Travis to do the exact same thing.

"Tina's right. What happened, buddy?"

Harry looks straight into Nick's face. "She took her pill."

Nick's eyes meet mine, full of fear, before turning back to his parents.

 _Shit._ _ **Shit**_ _!_

I bolt from my spot on the ground, pounding up the steps with the three Clarkes in tow. _No, please be okay._

I stop when I make it to her room, freezing when I see Melissa on the ground, holding Willa's tiny form. I search the desk, finding an opened globe on top, split in halves, and a ziploc baggie full of _huge_ pills, one half green, the other yellow.

But Willa, oh… She's not dead. Not anymore. She's already turned.

She's barely moving, but I can see the change in her skin. Her normal, soft glow has gone, replaced by an ashy tone. Eyes, unopened but moving beneath the lids. Her form jerks, moving without purpose in her mother's arms.

Melissa's wailing, completely overtaken by grief. I understand, on some level. While she certainly wasn't my kid—and I don't know _half_ the pain Melissa might be going through—I did care for Willa. I really liked her.

She was amazing. And now she's gone.

Madison reaches the room first, sprinting in and panting out, "No, Melissa! Melissa, you can't hold her."

When Willa opens her eyes, I'm just about ready to cry. The whites are almost bloodshot red with murky blue irises. She's gone. If that isn't enough to convince me, her raspy growls and gnawing jaw are.

"No, you can't hold her." Madison repeats, taking generous steps to the pair on the floor. "It's not safe to hold her."

"She knows." George nearly yells. Travis and Nick burst through the doorframe in time to see Willa's undead form lurch forward and sink her teeth into Melissa's neck.

She _screams_ , falling backwards to the floor. Willa bites and tears, grabbing at her mother's form. She climbs over her, gnawing teeth yanking at any form of skin she can reach. George screams, tears forming in his eyes as he watches two girls he loves leave him behind in this world.

"Maddy! Tina!" Travis calls, gesturing wildly for us to get out of the room. I do so quickly, running past him and Nick as fast as my legs can take me.

I pound down the steps, palming away at a few escaped tears as I reach Harry at the bottom.

"Is Willa okay?" He asks me.

I choke back as a sob as I say, "I'm sorry Harry, Willa and your mum are sick. We're gonna go on the boat ride without them."

I don't know how much I should say. How much should he know? He understands that the dead are _dead_ , but should he know that parts of his family have joined the infected?

The Clarkes follow my steps, sprinting to reach the bottom. George isn't with them. I don't want to think what that means.

"C'mon, Harry, let's go to the boat." Nick utters, picking up Harry with ease and throwing him over his shoulder.

Travis grabs at Harry's suitcase, ordering, "Go, go! We gotta leave now!"

"What about my daddy and Seth?" Harry shrieks over Nick's shoulder.

"They're gonna stay here, okay sweetie?" Madison tells him. "Don't worry, we're gonna keep you safe."

We bolt our way down the steps, through the beach, and all the way back to the deck, where Daniel is undoing the tether. _Holy shit, great timing. We need to go_ _ **now.**_

"What happened?!" He asks.

"They turned!" Is all Travis says. Easiest answer. "We're taking the boy with us."

Nick is the first to hop onto the boat, making sure to set Harry down on the deck as gently as possible. Chris, looking over the edge of the boat, eyes us warily. _Don't ask questions._

"I want my dad. I want my momma." Harry mumbles.

Madison hops up the steps and runs over to him, trying to offer some comfort. "I know, I know, but this is what they want. They want us to take care of you."

"What happened to Willa?"

Nick bends down, looking up to Harry as he comfortingly rubs at the kid's arm. "She got sick, okay?"

Daniel tosses the rope tethering the boat onto the deck haphazardly, quickly following it and running up the stairs to get on as well.

Okay, that's everyone. Time to go. _Now._

"Come on, lets go inside." I offer to Harry, gently pushing him inside the boat. I take a spot on the couch, letting him sit beside me for some comfort. Nick sits on the other side of him so he feels at least a tad safer. I can't meet Alycia or Ophelia's eyes as they stare at me, the kid, and Nick. I think I'm still in shock from Willa and Melissa.

"Madison!" Strand bellows. He sprints down the curving steps leading into the dining area. "What have you done now?!"

"We're taking him with us. We have room." She tells. Not asks; _tells._

Strand points to the kid. "Put him back where you found him."

It's almost comical, the way he says it. In my mind I play, "Put that thing back where you came from or so help me," from Monsters Inc. If only this scenario was as funny as that.

"We _have_ room!"

"We do not. Children are the definition of dead weight."

 _Harsh, Strand._ Subtly, I bring an arm around Harry's shoulders and press my hand to his ear. He doesn't need to hear them fight. Poor kid has been through _enough_ today.

"You're not doing this again!" Madison hisses. "You don't get to decide who lives and who dies!"

"That's _exactly_ what I do."

"There's no debate! We're doing this; now _move_ the goddamn boat!" She stares him down, unwavering in her stance. He stares back just as harshly.

Then a gunshot sounds from the dock.

I jump in my spot as I hear Seth scream, "STOP!" Nick brings a hand to cover Harry's eyes. Whatever happens next, he's right; Harry shouldn't have to see or hear a bloody thing.

Seth pounds his feet on the steps, pointing his rifle to the closest person to the opening of the boat, which happens to be Travis. "Get back! Get back!"

He points his rifle to Madison next, her arms outstretched in surrender. Then he calls to his brother. "Harry. Harry, come here. I'm taking you home."

"No, no!" Madison exclaims. Seth juts the barrel of his gun out further to her menacingly.

"Look, there's no home anymore." Travis says slowly.

"Shut up." Seth commands, flicking the gun back to Travis.

"You don't know what's back there!"

" _Shut up_!"

"Listen to me-"

"I know what's there!" Seth yells. "It's our home. This is _still_ our home!"

"Seth, your dad doesn't want this anymore." Travis speaks softly, praying the message will sink in. "He _told_ us to take him."

"My father _told_ me what he wants! He _taught_ me!"

"But he changed his mind."

Seth's eyes flicker, conflicted, but his gun stays trained firmly at Travis' chest. "No, no. I don't believe that."

"Come with us, Seth." Madison offers pleadingly. He points the gun back to her. "Please."

Barely visible, Daniel brings a small handgun to the side of Seth's head. Throughout the screaming, he's been quiet, standing to the corner of the room. I hear the flicker of the safety being turned off; the only noise he's made throughout this whole ordeal. Madison warns, "Daniel, don't."

Seth realizes he's trapped, but still, he's unwavering. "I can get at least one of you guys. Maybe more. Is that what you want?" He flicks the gun back to Travis, staring him down. "Hmm? Just let us go home! Just let us go!"

"You don't need to go with him." I whisper into Harry's ear.

"You can stay with us." Nick pleads.

"No." Harry says. "I wanna to home."

I want to scream. I want to protect him, I want to hold him and keep him safe. Most of his family is gone; all he has is Seth. He's better off with us. But, still, that's not what he wants. I can't say no to _his_ wishes.

Harry stands from between us, quietly walking over to Seth. Seth nods encouragingly.

"C'mon, Harry, let's go." Harry hugs Seth's middle tightly, sighing into the fabric of Seth's jacket.

One last time, Seth points the barrel of his gun toward Madison. " _You_ caused this."

"I wanna go home." Harry mumbles into Seth's clothes.

Seth nods, slinging the rifle onto his back. "Yeah, let's go home now."

He takes Harry's hand, the two walking to the edge of the boat. Seth hops off first, and grabs Harry to take him off the boat. I walk to the edge and grasp at the railing with the others, watching in horror as he takes the poor kid back to his undead home.

Just as the two start walking down the dock, a low grumbling fills my ears. One I have become all too familiar with. A dead one.

I look to where the dock connects to land, and it's Melissa, infected and dead. She limply makes her way over to her only two surviving children, slowly but surely.

"Oh, no." I whisper under my breath.

"Momma?" Harry questions.

Seth bends down to look to Harry as Ophelia looks to Daniel. "Can't you do something?"

He shakes his head, passing Ophelia and making his way back into the dining area. "The kid has a rifle."

"I want you to wave bye-bye to the nice people, okay?" I hear Seth ask Harry. "All right, just keep waving."

Harry turns to look at us, away from his mother, and gives a happy wave to the Abigail. Madison waves back, not once stopping as Seth raises the rifle and points it to his mother.

I wave back erratically, and when Seth cocks the rifle Harry almost turns to look over to the noise. I catch his attention, yelling out, "Goodbye, Harry!"

"Bye-bye, Tina!" He calls back, still waving. _God, don't stop waving._

I want to turn away; I don't want to watch Seth kill his mom. But I do. It's like watching a train wreck, you can't pull your eyes away from it.

Harry turns around, jumping at the sudden noise. That's when I turn away; when he and Seth walk over to their mom's body, and Harry begins to cry.

* * *

When dusk falls and night follows, I'm silent when I head to bed. I get there first before Alycia, quickly changing into some pajama shorts and my black sports bra. I'm hoping I won't have any nightmares tonight, seeing as how I've worked through my shit. At least, I _think_ I worked through it.

When Alycia walks in, her eyes glaze over to me, but she doesn't say anything. Neither do I. It's not a, "talk about it," kind of mood. After everything today, we both just want to pass out and hopefully wake up to a better morning.

So she gets into bed, worming her way underneath her blankets. I fling mine on top of me, and slowly, with the only light in the room being the red numbers on the digital clock, we drift off to sleep.

* * *

 _"Oh, I'm so glad you could make it!" I say cheerfully, my long arms hugging Ophelia._

 _"Wouldn't miss it for the world! It's not every day a gal turns 25." She tells me, pulling me to an arm's length. "Love the haircut. And the ring! I'll never get over that ring. We need to hang out more often."_

 _"I promise I'll visit you down in El Salvador this summer, okay?"_

 _"You'll love it." She winks to me as we walk further into the room, where most of the party is. My parents animatedly talk to Madison and Travis. Nick, Alycia, and Chris are pulled aside, playing a mean game of cards on the table lined with appetizers. Other friends are lounging about, people I used to hang out with during school. Daniel's standing by himself, resting against the wall with a red solo cup of punch in hand. He waves to me, a small smile resting on his face. "I'll have to show you_ _ **everything**_ _. And we can bar hop!"_

 _"Please don't get me_ _ **too**_ _drunk, Ophelia. If I start slurring my words, cut me off."_

 _"Oh, you're no fun." She bumps her hip against mine as we make our way to the punch bowl. "Anyone else coming?"_

 _"I invited Strand, but that doesn't mean he's coming." I pour myself a glass of the punch. I take a sip and purse my lips at the taste._ _ **Oh, yeah, it's spiked.**_

 _"Of course I'd come." A deep baritone says from behind me. I turn, seeing him in a pristine black suit. Always wore the finest, even in the apocalypse. "I always keep my obligations, don't I?"_

 _"Nice to see you again, Strand." I grin sweetly. Then I point out, "You weren't at the wedding, so I just assumed you'd send a postcard for this, too."_

 _"Ah, I was indisposed that month." He explains. "Hope this makes up for it." He fishes a small box from his breast pocket, covered in blue gift wrapping, and hands it to me._

 _"Thank you!" I say._

 _"Only the finest for Mrs. Cristina Clarke."_

 _I gently tear the paper, open the box, and am_ _ **stunned.**_ _It's a necklace, with two levels of skinny gold chain, and a single heart in the middle of each. The first heart on top is slightly larger than the bottom one, with space to dangle in between the two._

 _"Oh, my goodness, Strand." I gasp in awe. "It's beautiful."_

 _"I know my jewelry." He smiles to me. He holds out a hand, and I place the box back into his palm. With ease, he takes the necklace out, and I turn around so he can set it on my neck. When he clasps it in place, the slight weight of the necklace sets comfortably on me._

 _"You didn't have to get me anything, you know." I say, my hand reaching up to my neck and playing with the hearts._

 _"I know." Strand smirks. "But I am a man of my word. I don't like missing out on obligations, like the wedding. I need to go apologize to Nick, too." He pulls out another small box, this one covered in black velvet, and jerks his head over to the man in question. "Ladies, if you don't mind."_

 _"Of course." I gesture to Nick. "Go. He'll love to see you."_

 _He takes his leave and strides over the three siblings, and I watch him and Nick converse happily._

 _"Who'd have thought that we'd all be here now?" Ophelia muses aloud. "After everything we've been through, we still get to make it here."_

 _"I know." I say, eyes gleaming happily. "Dreams do come true, I guess."_

 _"Alright everyone!" My dad announces. He's at the table in the middle of the dining room, the cake in the middle with the candles lit. "The cake is on fire, now we shout at her."_

 _ **No**_ _, I immediately think, a rush of fear bursting through me._ _ **Not again.**_

 _But it's like I can't control my bloody movements. With a skip in my step, I take a seat at the head of the table, and dad gently pushes the familiar cake towards me as he sits beside me. Mum follows, taking the spot next to him with a grin in my direction._

 _"Alright, everyone, on three!" Dad announces. "One, two..."_

 _Mum begins to cough, her hand clutching at her chest. "Oh, sorry love." She tries to stifle the next cough, almost successfully._

 _"Thanks Laura." Dad rolls his eyes playfully. "Alright, take two! One, two..."_

 _Mum hacks again, barely able to control the fit. Her hand at her chest balls into a tight fist and she taps harshly at herself, hopefully dislodging whatever's causing the fit._

 _"You alright, mum?" I cautiously ask._

 _Her eyes begin to water with the irritation, but she waves at me dismissively. "Just a frog in my throat, nothing to worry about." She lets out a little wheeze at the end, and I frown._ _ **Doesn't sound fine to me.**_

 _With quick, shaking fingers, she grabs a napkin from the table and coughs into it harshly. When she finally stops, she's looks at it curiously. Blood._

 _"Oh, dear." She says darkly, dropping the bloody paper like it's on fire. Then, in two seconds, she drops to the floor like a ragdoll._

 _"Mum!" I screech, immediately bursting out of my seat. The concerned gasps of others fill my ears, most noticeably my dad's right beside me, but I train my focus on her._

 _Kneeling beside her, my index and middle finger search the side of her neck for a pulse. I've done this before,_ _ **even**_ _pre-med school, so I'm fairly confident in my skill._

 _But I find no pulse. And I'm terrified. "There's no pulse. There's no pulse!"_

 _ **Okay, Tina, you're a trauma doctor. You know what to do.**_ _"Dad, call 911. I'm starting CPR." My hands meet together above her chest, my right fingers curling around the left ones, and begin to compress deep to keep her blood flowing. My mind is a blur, but I manage to keep myself counting aloud the numbers of compression._

 _CPR works really well; in fact, patients who receive CPR moments after collapsing have a high survival rate. But not once have I seen it work this fast. When mum jerks underneath my hands after only a set, I'm relieved. She'll be extremely disoriented, and will probably have some amnesia, but she should be alright._

 _I'm just not expecting her to lurch forward from her spot, opened eyes revealing gray, lifeless irises and her teeth gnawing at the open air._

 _I try to fly back from her, screaming, but she's too fast. Her undead arms manage to claw at me, holding me in place as her teeth sink into my cheek, ripping at my flesh like its paper mâché. The pain is unbearable. It burns unlike any other feeling I've felt._

 _She bites at my shoulder, and all I can do is scream._

"Tina, _WAKE UP_!"

I bolt forward in my bed, just like every other bloody nightmare. Blankets flying, sweaty skin, disoriented mess. This time, though, I'm truly screaming out loud, just like I was in my dream.

"God DAMMIT!" I hiss, bringing my hands to my sweaty face. Alycia's by my bedside again, keeping her distance as I frustratedly groan.

"You okay?" She asks cautiously.

"Do I look okay?!" I bark, then feel the instant sting of regret. She's only trying to help. I sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—I just... I thought I worked through my issues. Evidently not." My tone is bitter towards the end, but I can't help it. I truly thought I fixed my issue.

The door to the bedroom bursts open, Nick standing in the open doorway. His eyes are wide as he searches my bed, landing on me. _Shit, I must've been_ _ **loud**_ _._

"Nick?" Alycia asks, her hand gently snaking its way to my back, rubbing soft circles like before. It helped then; it's helping now.

"Are you..." He starts nervously, staring at me. "Are you okay?"

I nod slowly. I'm not, but it's not his issue to deal with.

"She's fine." Alycia says softly. "Go back to bed."

He looks at me, those soft brown eyes telling me he would rather hop into bed beside me and make sure I was as fine as I said I was, but instead he takes a deep breath.

"You sure?" He asks me solely, waiting for me and _only_ me to respond.

"Positive." Oh, I sound pathetic. I sound as far away from fine as I could be. With this hoarse, soft, defeated tone? _I_ don't believe me. "Go back to bed, Nick. I'm fine."

"Okay." He jerkily nods. "Okay." He repeats, pulling away from the door and slowly closing it behind him.

"Ah, shit." I mutter. "Who else do you think heard?"

"You were..." Alycia fails to find a delicate way of explaining it. "You were screaming bloody murder, Tina. I would be surprised if the rest of our group _didn't_ hear."

"Great." I mumble bitterly.

 _I thought I was done with this. I really thought I let everything out last night. What else could I possibly work through? The only thing I have left is the phone._

…

The phone.

With newfound determination, I stand from my bed and yank my phone from underneath my pillow. Then I trek to the door with purpose.

"Where are you going?" Alycia calls behind me.

I rip the door open and take a small step over the threshold. "I'm getting rid of my phone!"

"Your _phone_?" She asks incredulously. She has reason to be. It sounds crazy.

"Yup." I pop the, "p," with vigor. "My six hundred American dollar phone! Don't wait up."

She doesn't get a chance to respond as I shut the door behind me and trek through the dark hallway and up the steps leading up to the main deck with vigor.

I pull myself to one of the railings, ready to toss the bloody thing into the ocean. And I try. I pull my arm back behind my head, phone in hand and ready to chuck it far into the water. But I can't. Not like this.

I sigh deeply. _Damn my feelings._ Bringing my hand back, I click on the screen, then flick through my contacts until I find mum's number.

I bring my phone to my ear, listening to the dials, my mum's message, and then the robotic voice. I smile painfully as I hear her voice. Tears well in the corners of my eyes. _Do I really want to do this?_

 _Yes, yes I do._

"Hi mum." I start softly. "And dad, too. I know that if you're out there, or dead, you're there together. I called tonight, because..." I sigh. "Let me restart. This is my last voicemail. I had another nightmare again. I thought, after last night, after understanding all my pent-up anger and grief, I'd get a good night's sleep, but I didn't. I guess I _haven't;_ not while I still have the phone and I can still call you, like right now."

I close my eyes, my voice wavering. "You. Are. Dead. And I need to deal with that, _really_ deal with that. I'm not getting anywhere by calling you. This last message... I'm saying goodbye. I love you, and that's why I need to let myself grieve. You are not here. No matter how much I want you to be, how much I want you to hear these... It's not happening. You are dead. It's painful, but it's true. So consider this your funeral, and this message your eulogy."

With nimble fingers, I pull the phone from my ear, staring at it. The one thing I have left of my parents, and I'm throwing it to the fishes.

"Goodbye, mum and dad. I love you."

And, with a huge weight lifting off my shoulders, I let the phone fall from my fingers and into the dark ocean. The soft _PLOP_ in the water sends small circles to beam out, rippling against the waves from the boat. My eyes follow the movement of the phone in the water, locking on the device until I can't see it anymore.

I sigh deeply, closing my eyes and feeling the breeze billow against my form. They're officially, completely gone. _Good._ There's a pain in my chest, but it's better than what it was before. I'll properly grieve.

"Can't sleep?" I hear a voice say after a small moment of silence. Flicking my head over my shoulder, I see Strand on the highest level of the deck, resting in his captain's quarters. He stretches his long arms over the railing, staring down to me.

"Something like that." I answer, shrugging. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Keeping my eye on the radar, making sure our friendly blimp stays gone."

I nod in understanding and stare back up to the night sky, focusing on the twinkling lights. Big Dipper is easy enough to spot; it's right above my head. My eyes trail through the stars, relaxing easy in the soft glow.

Then I look behind the boat, staring at the water rippling, and bringing my eyes to the sky. And I smile.

An uppercase C, a swiggly curve, and a pitchfork-like end. _I found the scorpious one. Chris would be proud._

"Have fun with that. Good night, Strand." I say, and trek back to the stairs leading down to my level with less energy than before. Now, I'm just tired and sad. I want sleep. _Please let me sleep._

I prowl slowly through the dark hallway, passing the empty doors and the rooms of my friends. I intend to go back to my own, with Alycia hopefully already asleep, but my feet stop me at the door just before ours.

And I think. Would it be bad to wake him up? Probably. He's most likely back asleep. I should _not_ knock on this door.

 _Knock, knock._

"Come in?"

I should not come in.

But against my better judgement, my hand grasps at the doorknob and lets myself in.

Nick doesn't say anything when I shut the door behind me. He stares curiously, his lower half covered underneath his blankets. It's hard to see in the dark, but I could point out those piercing brown orbs anywhere, staring at me with a softness and curiousness that's uniquely Nick.

"Can I..." _Oh, this is stupid. Leave._

Well, I'm already here. Might as well ask. "Can I sleep with you?"

He responds quickly, jerking a nod. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

I take a few tentative steps toward his bed as he asks, "Left or right?"

"Right."

He readjusts to the left, pulling the blankets out of my way and allowing some space for me to hop in. I crawl over the sheets and pull myself under, letting my head fall backward onto the pillow of this side. He adjusts on his end, so the blankets keep flying, but I don't really care. I can already feel the jaws of sleep pulling me in. I shuffle myself onto my side, so I'm looking over to Nick. He's done the same thing.

"Can I... Can I?" He holds an arm out, gesturing to me.

"Please." I nod, and he gently snakes it around my waist, pulling me closer so we're flushed against each other. I never put on a shirt after waking up, so I'm still clad in my sports bra and shorts. His fingers gently trace circles onto the naked skin of my back, and I try not to shiver under his touch. I'll admit, my face is probably a bit more flushed than before, but I can chalk it up to the blankets and extra body heat instead of sleeping beside Nick.

Once we're settled comfortingly and his head is resting a few inches above mine, he quietly murmurs, "You wanna talk about it?"

"No." I say softly into his chest. My arms wraps around his middle as I add, "I don't want to think about it anymore. I just want to fall asleep in the arms of someone who makes me feel safe."

"Okay," is his response. He tightens his hold on me, gently squeezing before releasing.

Just as my eyes slowly blink, I realize I'm falling asleep. But here, with Nick, with the phone gone, I think I'll finally have a decent night's rest.

* * *

 _A/N: Alright, that was a trip and a half, phew! Two more days. Hopefully no more nightmares. How do you guys feel about all this? Let me know in a review or PM! They seriously make my day :)_

 _Update as of **5/10/19** : I am still thirsty as fuck for reviews and PM's. Please val-i-date me!_


	13. Chapter 13: Shopping on Shore

_A/N: I'm on a roll, everyone! Woop woop, another chapter out. I love summer vacation and being able to write non-stop for hours at a time. I'll probably have another one out in the next few days, as well. I'm so excited!_

* * *

"Tina, wake up."

"Nnnn, no." I grumble, purposefully keeping my eyes closed. Nick tries to pull an arm away from my side, but I buckle it in by my elbow. "No, warmth."

"C'mon, sleeping beauty. Wake up." His hand taps my back in encouragement. I don't let go of my hold on him; I pull him closer.

"Yank, I said no." I snuggle into his chest, sighing in comfort. Our legs are a mess, tangled around each other. The sheets are flung, messy and unkempt by the bottom. I guess we both toss and turn in our sleep.

"Tina." He tries again, successfully prying away this time. "C'mon, we gotta get up."

"Fuck you." I mutter into the pillow, snuggling it instead. Then I quietly realize, "I actually slept last night." I smile, my face mushing into the soft cushion. _Sweet, dreamless sleep._

"Jesus, T, how long have you been having nightmares?"

I feel the mattress move around me, his weight shifting. When I open my eyes he's above me, towards my side, awaiting the response as he lets his weight rest on one hand.

I shift in place, flipping so I can rest on my back and stare up at him. "A few days. Not too long. But I'm glad they're over."

"Me too." An arm gently glides over me, resting on the bed on my other side so he can gaze down; he's trapped me in place. "Day six, by the way."

"No carrier pigeon today?" I ask, cocking my head to the side to look up curiously.

"Nah, not while I still have you here."

"You're not gonna try to talk me out of it?" My eyes roam over him, over his eyes, his straight, strong jaw, his lips. "Out of that last day? Not going to try and speed things up? We've already broken the rule twice."

"While I would love to," Nick starts, his hand going to my cheek, thumb lightly pushing some few escaped strands of unruly hair from my face as he caresses me softly, "I'm not going to. Here's the thing, T. I like you. A lot. I respect you. So if you want seven days, you get seven days. Even if they're a smidge broken. So, I'm going to get upstairs and grab some breakfast, and you can do whatever you want. And we're not gonna talk until tomorrow. Okay?"

My hand grasps at his resting on my cheek, snuggling into it. "Good answer."

"I can be smart, on occasion."

"Eh, only on Tuesdays."

The remark earns a chuckle. Before he pulls away, he slowly leans down above me, eyes roaming over my face in the soft morning light from the window above. I squint, trying to figure out what he's thinking.

Then, slowly, Nick brings his head to mine, eyes closed, and presses a kiss to the middle of my forehead. I release a soft breath I don't even realize I was holding, eyelids fluttering shut at the gentleness. My skin blazes like a fire underneath his touch. The warmth spreads through me when I open my eyes, looking up to his smiling face.

This last day needs to go _fast._

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." He chuckles lowly.

"Don't be." I say breathlessly. "But go. You're right. One day more."

"Yeah." He says quietly, more like he's muttering to himself than me. "One day."

As Nick pulls away and stands on the floor, he furrows his brows.

"What?"

"Do you feel that?" He looks back to me, searching my expression.

"Feel what?"

"Exactly." He takes a few steps to the door. "The boat's not moving."

I stand cautiously, and I realize he's right. _Shit._ When you're on a boat for a good while, you get used to the feeling of it moving underneath your feet. It's gentle, but it's there. Now, the Abigail sways softly in the water, not speeding through like it should be.

What the hell happened?

* * *

"Something's blocking the water intake." Madison explains at breakfast. She pours a small pot of coffee out for those who enjoy the horrid bean juice. "The water cools the engine, but because the water isn't filling up-"

"The engine's overheated." Nick finishes.

She nods, finishes pouring his cup, and moves on to Alycia. "Travis went down last night. There was an infected stuck. We think there's more underneath the filtration system."

"Oh, gross." Alycia scrunches her nose in disgust. Her long fingers grasp at the coffee mug, holding it in front of her face while she waits for it to cool down. "Excellent breakfast talk."

"Hey, we should all be informed about what goes on in this boat." Madison comments, placing the pot of coffee down on the table. There's barely a smidge left at the bottom, but it's there for whoever needs the extra boost. "Travis is still workin' on it. We don't know how long it's gonna be."

"Okay." I say. Madison treads over to me, a steaming cup of green tea in hand. I thank her before adding, "So we wait."

"Yup." She pops the, "p," at the end when she finally takes a seat at the table. "Toast, anyone?"

* * *

By the time breakfast is done and we've scattered in different areas, I decide to head back to my bedroom. My fingers search through Alycia's backpack, and I find my EMT book. It's been a while since I've read it. Better skim through the pages at least, just to keep the information fresh in mind.

After staring at it for a good hour, trying to absorb everything possible on broken legs, I opt to take a quick break and clear my head. I stroll to the front of the boat, on the deck where the plastic lawn chairs are. Alycia sits by herself on one, looking through a set of binoculars to an island a raft ride away.

"Anything good out there?" I ask as I plop unceremoniously onto the chair beside her. My knees knock with hers in the small space between the chairs.

"Take a look." She hands me the binoculars, and I peak to the island.

"Holy _shit_." I gasp. There's dozens of suitcases spread brought dunes of sand, going as far inland as my eyes can see. There's definitely some wreckage; a plane wing is shattered into at least three gigantic pieces, the closest items to the water. "Any infected?"

"I've been out here since breakfast, and I haven't seen anything yet." Alycia explains as she holds out her hand for the binoculars. I hand them back and she stares to the island again. As her eyes comb through the wreckage, she comments, "You never came back to bed last night."

"No, I didn't." I say easily. I was hoping not to have this conversation. "I told you not to wait up for me."

"I was only up for about half an hour," she replies, lowering the binoculars from her eyes. Then she looks over to me. "And I realized you weren't coming back so I gave up."

I shrug non-committedly.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"We just slept."

"You didn't-"

"No, Alycia." My face burns in embarrassment. "But even if we did have hot, kinky sex, is that really any of your business?"

She looks over as she chuckles, hazel eyes softly gazing to me. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course." I furrow my brow.

"And I love Nick, too."

"I would hope so."

"Shut up, I'm trying to be sincere." She lightly shoves at my knee. "I just- back in freshman year, before he started using and before dad died, I thought you two would be great together. But after?" She gently shakes her head, as if to clear her thoughts. "I love Nick, but sometimes he's not the greatest person, Tina. I watched him with other girls, other users, and his life just spiraled downward. And he went willingly. That hole is _not_ a place he escaped easily; it took _the apocalypse_ to get him out. I just—I don't want that to happen to you if you do get together."

"It won't." I say simply, smiling to her. Her heart is so huge, so caring. "I know what you mean, and I won't let it. We talked about that. If we ever decide on anything, if we ever want to _be_ anything, he needs his head clear and his shit together."

"Okay." She nods. "I just want you to be... safe, I guess. I want you to be happy."

"That means a lot to me, 'Lych." I say earnestly. "Honestly. But you don't have to worry, alright?"

"Alright." And she smiles, finally. With a jerk of her head to the boat, she asks, "C'mon, why don't we get on that island? We could use the supplies."

"Hell yes."

The two of us hop up from our spots and run to the back, where most of the group is relaxing. Nick and Chris use the fishing equipment, each holding poles and setting bait on the end. Strand is beside them, watching the pair in amusement. Madison rests on the rails, staring out to the sea. She must be going crazy with Travis working his ass off to fix this ship and not being able to help.

"Mom! Mom!" Alycia calls, the two of us scampering quickly to reach Madison.

"What?" Madison says, sounding like her head's in a fog. She repeats herself to clear it. "Girls, what?"

We reach her in a second, but not before being reprimanded by Strand. "I _know_ you're not running on my deck."

"Jesus, seriously?" Alycia complains. I just scoff in indignation. I don't feel like conversing with his royal highness. (Read: royal pain in the _ass_.)

"What's wrong, girls?" Madison repeats, turning our attention back to her.

"Look," Alycia hands the binoculars over to her mother, pointing out to the island. "Over there. Do you see it?"

"Is that-" Madison starts.

"Suitcases." I confirm. "A lot of luggage."

"Holy shit, where'd that wash up from?" Madison comments, pulling the binoculars off her face.

Nick sets his pole down and heads over to her, taking a peak through the binoculars himself.

"We need supplies." Alycia says.

Madison shakes her head. "Alycia, no."

"We've been watching. There's no one there. No infected. All that stuff is just lying there."

"There's infected in the water!"

"We're not gonna swim."

"It's a yard sale. I'll go." Nick says, pulling the binoculars from his face.

"I'm with you." Chris adds.

"Me too." I nod in agreement.

"If they're going, I'm going." Alycia asserts.

"No!" Madison protests. "Listen to me, all of you! Look, if anything were to happen to you—"

"Anything did happen." Alycia glares at her mother, waiting for another argument. "We're all in it. We've seen and done-"

"I know." Madison interjects softly.

"So stop putting us at the kids' table."

"I'll watch her." Chris offers.

Alycia rolls her eyes. "You're gonna get slapped."

"Mom," Nick looks over to her as Daniel and Ophelia walk through the threshold of the door, listening to us bicker. "We need more clothes. We need more meds. We need more everything."

"Valid." Strand pipes up. Of course he wants us to go to shore. _He_ wouldn't, but he needs the supplies and we're more than willing to grab them.

Nick continues, "So we go while Travis fixes the engine. We get what we can. We come straight back." Nick walks away from her, not letting her have even a second to argue. He's right. Kill two birds with one stone. We're floating anyway, might as well make good use of our time.

"What's going on?" Travis pulls through the door, one hand completely covered in a gross, dark goop. _Oh god, it smells. The goop smells_ _ **so**_ _bad._

"Dad, we're going to shore." Chris informs, handing a towel to Travis to clean up his arm.

"Like hell you are!" Travis immediately opposes.

Alycia crosses her arms. "We're not asking for permission."

" _Excuse_ me?" Travis answers hotly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, hold on!" Madison agrees.

"Guys, we need supplies!" I say. "They are _right_ there for the taking!"

Daniel interjects before a whole argument breaks out. "I'll take them. The girls are right. We're wasting time. Anything goes wrong, we'll come back quickly."

Madison and Travis share a look of worry, but both finally concede. They're outnumbered. And besides, we'll be fine. Just a quick trip ashore.

* * *

"Okay; get in, get out." Travis explains as he hops onto the raft with an empty jug. "Look for sealed pills, clothes, canned food."

I hand Chris an empty black duffel bag as he hops onto the raft. Alycia takes a red bin in hand and her beige backpack, now emptied, on her back. I carry another duffel, slung on a shoulder while I await my turn to get on the raft.

"Size thirteen sneakers, if you find 'em." Travis adds.

"It's on the list." Ophelia assures, holding a small slip ripped out of a notebook. "Hey, if you see any clothes that aren't completely awful-"

"I got you." Nick replies, walking past and taking the note from her hands. With ease, he hops to the raft and takes a seat by his sister.

"'Lycia, Tina, I can't do geriatric chic." Ophelia says, holding back a grin.

"What's wrong with geriatric chic?" Nick defends, gesturing to himself. Thankfully, he's no longer wearing the old man jacket, and he's stayed with the blue polo from the boat, but he's still wearing the hideous baggy, yellowed pants.

"Exactly." Ophelia snickers.

"Relax," I step to her, placing a comforting arm on her side. "We got you."

She nods playfully as I pass her and hop onto the raft. I take a seat by Chris and throw the duffel to the ground with a heave. Madison pipes up as she pulls Travis up from the raft and back onto the Abigail. "Get warm clothes too, okay? Jackets, sweaters. It's cold out on the water."

"Can do, Madison." I wave. Daniel's the last to hop on, immediately taking the front and turning on the raft's engine. We wave to the Abigail one last time before Daniel turns the raft over and we shoot out to sea.

The ride is silent and quick as we make our way to the island, and we stash the raft in a small bend in the beach, hidden away by some large rocks and a sand dune. We grab our bags and I toss mine over my shoulder with high hopes I'll find something good. Even if I find a single can of soup, I'll be happy.

Our small group treks up through the hot sand, passing by some burnt suitcases and wreckage. The broken wing I saw through the binoculars is more tattered in the back, dozens of wires and sprigs of hot metal protruding haphazardly. _Shit. Must've been a rough landing._

"Bloody hell." I murmur, stopping in my tracks beside Alycia and Chris as we pass by some dead ones. The bodies are truly dead; _no_ possible chance of them coming back. They're crisped from a fire, with _lots_ of head trauma. Either someone came by and put them out of their misery, or the landing put them out and they hopefully didn't feel a thing.

I take a step back from the bodies, shaking my head to push away the thoughts. We're here for supplies. Nothing else matters.

"Okay, let's be quick." Daniel says. "Everyone where I can see you. Fill your bags, come back."

"Aye, aye, captain." I quietly mutter, turning to the left, past the wing and bodies, and take a few generous steps before I drop to my knees and open a large, green suitcase.

Clothes, lots of them. Mostly khakis and polos, some Star Wars t-shirts toward the bottom. _Better than nothing._ I stuff some into my duffel, keeping them close together so I have more room to shuffle through the rest of it. Small, travel sized packs of shampoo and conditioner, some toothpaste, and a stick of deodorant. _Might as well._ There's a laptop at the bottom, with a charger, and some books. Those are useless, so I stand and head to the next one.

It's smaller, and a soft lavender. Well, it _was._ The edges are covered in soot and sand, so it's darker than its original color. The zipper is stuck, so it takes more than a moment to fiddle with it and get it opened. When I do, I immediately frown and shake my head softly.

Dolls, stuffed animals. Horrid, glittery lip glosses. A child's bag. There's clothes, and other items, sure, but nothing that the group can use. With sad eyes, I pull away from it and move to the next one.

The next one is black and nearly bursting at the seams. Whoever packed this one needed _everything_ for this trip.

When I open it, it's definitely a woman's. Summer dresses, flip flops, lots of high-end make-up in a pocket. By the dresses, tucked in the corner tightly, is a flowery shawl. Curiously I pull it out and unfurl it.

"Good god." It's _long!_ Longer than I am. This very light, see-through shawl has to be made for someone at _least_ 5'6". I'm only 5'3", and _barely_ there at that. Still, I pull it to the side and continue my rummaging.

For her toiletry items, she has two kinds of shampoo and one _huge_ bottle of conditioner, all of which I toss into my duffel. Then there's a couple different face mask packs by a razor and some shaving cream. The latter two I take. _Eh, why not?_

"Oh, _hello!_ " I grin to the suitcase. Tucked away underneath the clothes is a couple of protein bars and some to-go cups of Cheerios. Better than nothing! _I'll take stale Cheerios over eel any day._

I shuffle around the front flap of her pack and find a small can of pepper spray. Curiously, I point the can outward to the sand dunes, shake it, and spray it. Sure enough, a quick mist spreads from the spout. _Awesome._ I doubt very highly the infected can feel pain, but _people_ can.

 _Anything else?_ I tuck the can into the small clothing pile I've set in the duffel, and rummage blindly to the bottom of the front flap. Nope.

 _Any clothes worth taking?_ I open the middle of the suitcase again and take one last look through the clothes. The shawl is pulled to the side, and with little vigor I pull out the sundresses, skirts, and tank tops. _Well, I guess those tanks could work._

Halfheartedly, I take a couple of the tanks and shove them into the duffel. When I go through the second stacks of clothes, I pull out something unexpected towards the bottom.

" _Hell-o, beautiful!_ " I murmur, yanking out the item. A knife! Not a design I've seen before. A switchblade, maybe? A flick-knife?

It's folded into itself, the blade hidden in the hilt. Experimentally, I tug on the backside of the blade in hopes to get it out, but to no avail. _Huh._ I hold it up to my eye level, twirling it in my hands to figure out how to get it open.

The hold is very pretty; mostly black, but with intricate designs throughout the marble-like cover. There are delves on the side of it, most likely for fingers to grasp. _How the fuck do I get it open, though?_

I twist it to the back, searching for an opening mechanism. Thankfully, I find a small dot on the back, protruding at the topmost part of it. I hum thoughtfully. My index finger pulls at the dot, flicking it down to the hilt. Immediately the blade flicks out of the hilt, the silver metal shining proudly in the summer sun. The letters, "CRKT," are written close to the hilt. _This lady must've been really into self-defense._

"Hell yeah!" I grin. I'm _definitely_ taking this. My fingers curl at the delves, settling themselves comfortably to hold it. The blade points outward in my hand. _I could get used to this!_ With a nervous jerk, I bring the knife down to the sundresses, stabbing them like it's a lesson. It rips through the first two easily. When I pull it out, the fabric is tugged by the blade, slicing it further down. _I'll make myself familiar with it_.

Now, how do I close it?

With more fumbling and searching through the knife, I find a small piece of metal _right under_ the blade that I need to push out of the way so the blade can be set back into the closed position. It's tough to close, but I'll get used to it. Eventually.

I set the closed blade into my back pocket and stand from the sand with my duffel slightly fuller than before. _Thank you, random lady._ In a silly spilt-second decision, I grab the shawl and walk over to Alycia, throwing the bundled fabric at her head.

"Hey!" She complains, ripping it off her eyes. "I just brushed this hair."

"You'll get over it." I shrug my shoulders playfully. She looks over the shawl, flipping it over in her hands, and decides to shrug it on her shoulders. "It looks nice on you. Pretty."

"Thanks."

A shadow passes over the sand in front of me, and I feel something being placed atop my head. My hands feel over it, the hat shielding my eyes from the sun. My green orbs gaze above my head, to the trim of a white hat. A gardening hat.

Nick strides past me, a playful smirk on his face before he situates himself in front of another suitcase. _Very funny, ha ha._

I adjust the hat comfortably atop my head. Maybe not the most fashionable, but certainly nice to keep the sun out of my eyes.

Alycia throws something to Nick's face, and I quietly snicker as he's temporarily blinded. When he pulls the white cloth away, I take in the detail on the shoulders. Stripes in blue and yellow; a captain's jacket. There's sand stuck to it in various patches, but besides that it's pretty damn clean. He shoulders it on, standing so he can properly fix the buttons.

"All these years never knowing where you were or what you were doing." Alycia comments. "And now here you are."

"I was always _there_." Nick tells her, messing with a button near the collar of the jacket. "I was just hungry." When he finishes he brandishes himself to the two of us. "Well?"

Alycia giggles at the ensemble. "Very handsome."

"Better than those worn stripes." I whisper to Alycia with a grin.

"Damn straight." She nods to me. Then she hands something over to me. "Your turn."

"Hah," I say, looking at the item in hand. It's a black plastic raincoat, with white flowers covering the bottom half of it. "No."

"Oh, yes." She replies smoothly. "He wears the captain's jacket, I wear this shawl, you wear pretty flowers on plastic."

"Nope. I'm wearing this _hat_ , that's it." My hands drop the raincoat as I stand, and I hold the brim of the hat and bend it downward at its sides. "It's already super fashionable, 'Lych." I pull off a fancy twirl and cock the hat on its side, giving her a wink.

She whistles lowly, "Work it, gurl."

Popping out my hip, my hand goes to the middle of the hat and I bow jovially, tipping it, spinning it on my index finger, and flipping it back on my head. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week."

Nick treks off on his own, shaking his head and chuckling as he leaves Alycia and me alone to search through this small patch of suitcases. There's nothing worth taking. A couple opened bottles of Ibuprofen, some water, and a pack of Mac and Cheese, but nothing else. After I search through the last case on this stretch I allow myself to flop backwards, landing on my ass as I let out a large huff of air.

Disinterested in searching through more suitcases, I pull out my CRKT knife, flicking it opened and closed to get myself familiar with the movements.

"Found that, too?" Alycia asks.

I nod. "Mmhmm. Thought it'd be useful." _Against the dead, and the living, if need be._ I hope it never comes to that, but we never know nowadays. "Find anything else?"

"Nada." She answers, standing. "C'mon, let's go find the others. Maybe Daniel and Chris had some luck."

 _Maybe. That's the key word._

We head to the front of the beach, where we'd last seen the two, but all we find is Nick sitting by himself, shuffling through a pack with clothes and pill bottles. His eyes scan through the names, and he tosses most of them aside. I'll admit, my blood runs cold at the sight. _I swear to god, Nick. Don't you_ _ **dare.**_

"Where are the others?" Alycia asks him cautiously, pulling his mind away from the rattling bottles.

"I don't know," he answers, throwing a bottle to the side. "This shit's useless."

I stare down to him harshly as Alycia asks, "Useless for _what_ , Nick?"

"Ophelia's out of antibiotics. She needs more."

 _Oh, okay._ I let out a huff of air, taking a step away from the siblings. _Not looking for anything else. Okay._ I shake my head. I have to trust him on that front. _Perks of liking an addict,_ I think with an inward eyeroll. Always second-guessing his motives near pills.

"Oh, I think Daniel went to look for Chris." Nick adds.

"They're taking too long." Alycia looks out to the sand dunes, finding no movement besides the drifting sand. She hops through them, making her way a level down. I follow suit. She's right, we probably should get going.

"I'm right behind you." Nick says distractedly, taking another look at a bottle of pills in his hand. He tosses it back to the case as he stands up, shouldering his duffel. The three of us make our way to the left, following a barely-there path through the sand.

"Hold on, 'Lycia." Nick calls from the back of the group. He pulls away, heading over to a black bag by some pointy flowers and plants off the path. _A doctor's bag._

Alycia and I press forward without him. Whatever he finds, I have to trust that it's truly for Ophelia and not himself. _**Former**_ _addict. Former._

"Chris?!" Alycia calls out to the open. We trek through the sand, but all I've seen so far is more suitcases and wreckage. There's nothing big enough for him to hide in. I haven't caught a glimpse of the teen since we first got on shore.

"See anything?" I ask. She's a few paces ahead; maybe she has more view than I do.

She shakes her head ruefully. "No. _CHRIS!_ "

"'Lych." I tap her arm, pulling her back and pointing her further into the island. "Look."

There's a huge piece of the back of the airplane smack in the middle of some sand dunes, with twisted pieces of metal and wires flying everywhere. It's definitely big enough for him to walk inside. We're pointed to the back end of the collapsed metal; the, "entrance," must be on the other side.

"Chris?" Alycia calls out curiously, trekking deeper into the sand. I follow close behind, my hand hovering over my back pocket. _Just in case there are infected in there._

The kid in question slowly walks out of the back end of the remnant of the plane, eyes downcast and shockingly large. Alycia stomps up to him. "Where the hell were you?!"

"I was in there looking for some supplies." He answers, voice hollow. He looks like he's in shock.

I take in the blood splattered on his neck, and the metal piece in his hands. It's covered, too. Alycia looks over him, her fingers roaming over his face as she stutters out, "Are you hurt?"

"No." Chris replies, pulling away from her searching fingers. He looks over the bloodied metal and repeats, "No! No, I'm okay. It wasn't- it wasn't me."

"You killed one?"

He gives us the smallest of nods, gulping quietly.

Then a gunshot sounds out of nowhere, reverberating through the air.

"Shit." I mutter. The three of us rush back to the front of the island, back to Daniel, and it is _covered_ in the dead. Dozens of dead passengers moan and shamble over him. With his handgun he shoots at the masses, taking out a few, but he only has so many bullets.

Beside him is a woman I've never seen before; probably the only living survivor of this bloody crash. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and a backpack is slung over her shoulders. Her eyes are wide as one of the dead get close to her, but she manages to unsteady it by kicking at its legs. When it tumbles over, she stands above it and stabs it straight brought the forehead with a pocket knife.

"Daniel! Where's Nick?" Alycia yells as we run back to him and the girl.

"Let's get back to the boat!" He responds as he presses the trigger on his gun. The only sound is a quiet, "click." Ammo only lasts so long. Instead he manages to kill one by beating it with the end of the gun.

"Where's Nick?!" I ask, pulling out my knife from my back pocket. _Let's see what this thing's made of._

"He was supposed to be with you!" Daniel responds. _Shit._ We all comb through the dead surrounding us, searching for him, but he's nowhere to be found. That's either good, or _really_ bad. _Where did you go this time, yank?_

"Grab something." Daniel orders Alycia. "Now."

I flick open the blade of my new knife and drop my duffel, immediately running over to the closest infected. With determined hands I pull at its messy hair so it looks upward. I shove the blade upward, through its jaw, and the body goes limp in my hand.

I yank the blade out, ignoring the squelch it makes and drop the fully dead infected before I turn to the next one. Copying the stranger's moves from earlier, my feet kicks at the legs of the tall infected, letting it tumble over a small sand dune. As it falls to its knees, both hands grasp at the hilt of the knife and I bring it down forcefully through the skull. Pulling it out is harder, but I manage that just fine.

"Alycia!" Chris screams to her, and I turn in my spot. She's desperately pulling at a heavy-set stick of wood underneath a burrowed suitcase in the dirt. One of the dead is clambering their way towards her, too close for my liking.

I'm just about ready to run over to her when the stick finally comes loose, and she throws her arm back with a grunt. The stick connects to the dead one's face, and it tumbles down to the sand.

There's too many surrounding us. It feels like it's fifty to our measly five. I take out one, two more come shambling up. I take cautious steps back as I go, just like the rest of us, and we find ourselves at the edge of a small, rocky cliff. We're too far back. We're stuck.

I look behind me in a quick moment, looking out to the water. There's rocks below. We can't jump. If the dead don't kill us, the fall surely would.

"Alycia!" I scream. Another dead one comes to her, pressing forward with ease. She smacks it in the face with her stick, but it's not enough to kill it. The infected presses on with unsteady feet, shoving itself against her front. She holds the stick out horizontally on her chest, pushing it out so the dead one can't bite her. I'm trying to reach her so I can stab at him, but there's too many close to me. I can't make it and stay alive at the same time.

 _Shit. We're surrounded and there's nowhere to go._

Suddenly, a loud _BAM!_ fills my ears, and the infected at Alycia drops dead to the sand. I look over, and I see Nick with a piece of metal from the plane in hand. _Thank god._ Then I scrunch my nose in disgust. His entire captain's jacket, plus his face and strands of his hair, are completely covered in blood.

His eyes lock with Alycia's for a moment, making sure she's okay, and then he swings his arms back and hits another infected in the face with the piece of metal. _What the hell, Nick?! What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?_

"Go, go!" He screams to us, pointing to a small opening through the horde of the dead.

 _Don't need to tell us twice._ I grab at my duffel after stabbing another infected beside us. _I went through all this trouble to get some supplies; I'm keeping them, dammit!_ We all desperately run through the sand, away from the dead, away from the fighting. I haphazardly stab at one that gets too close to us for my liking, looking back to the rest of the horde crowding around the edge of the cliff. And Nick is still by the dead. Nearly in the middle of the group.

"Nick!" Alycia screams to him. Still he stands, staring curiously to the infected in front of him. "NICK!"

He pulls away this time, clearing his thoughts and following us through the dunes and back to our raft.

I throw my duffel onto the raft as I push at the end offer with Chris, Daniel, and the newcomer. Alycia and Nick pull behind us, Alycia worriedly hovering over him.

"Nick, are you bit?!" She anxiously stutters out. Her hands roam over his face like she did with Chris earlier, staring intensely at him as she repeats, "Are you bit?"

"No, I'm good. I'm good." He responds quickly. She hugs him tightly, and his arms wrap around her with the same force. I let out a breath of relief, one that I know he can hear over the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks near us. He softly adds, "I'm okay, I'm okay."

Just as the rest of us push the raft out to the water, the stranger looks over to Daniel. "We're gonna need to make a stop."

* * *

Once we're out to sea and have _two_ strangers in an emergency raft tied to ours, I finally get a second to breathe and clear my head. Well, catch my breath, at least. My mind goes over the last hour, replaying myself killing the infected in the sand. My hands are completely bloodied and messy, the red becoming sticky as it dries on my palms. _At least the knife came in handy._

The thirty seconds I get to recharge my thoughts are not enough, though. We're already back to the Abigail, the rest of the group sans Strand waiting on the wooden platform floating on the water.

"Are you hurt?" Madison asks Alycia as she helps her stand from the raft. "What happened?"

"I don't know, exactly." Alycia huffs out, still catching her breath. She looks to the bright orange emergency raft behind us, carrying the two strangers. One, the girl we fought with; the other, a poor kid that's been badly burned in the crash landing of the plane.

" _WHAT. HAPPENED_?" Madison asks all of us, impatiently waiting for a response.

I get out next, standing from the Abigail's raft and throwing my duffel over the edge. My new knife remains in my back pocket, the blade as bloodied and sticky as my hands.

Travis offers a hand up to his son, who's completely wide-eyed and in shock from what transpired on land. Poor thing can barely form a sentence as his father encouragingly asks him what happened. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"We got separated." Daniel tells them, standing from the raft and reaching Ophelia on the wooden platform. Strand takes a few generous steps down the stairs, staring to the newcomers with fury in his eyes. "I almost lost the kids."

Madison sets a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You brought them back."

Alycia offers a hand to the new girl, steadying her as she takes a step to get onto the boat.

" _No_." Strand immediately snarls.

"They're dehydrated." Alycia protests.

"I don't care! There's no room. Not here. Not where we're going."

I frown at him, immediately irritated. We're not _going_ anywhere. We have _no_ destination; there's no reason we can't let these two on the Abigail.

"We don't know where we're going!" Alycia argues. She looks over to Madison for help. "Mom?"

Her eyes look up to Strand, sharing a look before moving them back down to Alycia. "Yes, we do. We're going to Mexico."

The answer is met with silence. _Since when?_ None of us have been told this magical idea until _just now._

"Strand has a place there." Madison continues.

"Since when?!" I shoot back, looking accusingly between her and Strand.

"There's food. Power, water. It's close. Baja. He's invited us to stay 'till things clear."

"Things will never clear." Nick says, passing by her with a jug half-full of water.

"Then we make it our home!"

Ophelia interjects. "We don't know that's it's safer down there than anywhere-"

"We're gonna find out." Madison interrupts.

"How do we know it's what he says it is?"

"He said San Diego was safe," I argue. "We _know_ it's not; Baja could be the _same_ bloody way!"

"It _is_ what I say it is." Strand says, sounding almost bored with the conflict.

"Okay, _why_ didn't this come up before?" Ophelia asserts her point. The rest of us nod in agreement. _Sounds like something very big to withhold from the rest of the group_. "Why are we just hearing about this now?"

Travis grinds his teeth as he pulls away from Chris. "Because it's _necessary_ now. We can't stay on the water forever. Madison's right. We made a decision; we have our destination."

 _Wonderful._ _ **Bloody**_ _wonderful._

"And what about them?" Alycia gestures to the newcomers.

Strand answers. "They're a liability."

"Hold on-" Alycia interrupts, but Strand continues.

"The boy's sick. He'll turn."

"He'll turn if we don't help him!"

"Madison," Strand gestures to Alycia, waving her off, "please."

"Okay, fine," Alycia pleads with her mother. "They won't go to Mexico. They just need some medicine and a place to stay for the night." Madison stares down to Alycia sadly, not responding. Alycia points to the two in the raft, her voice raising louder as she screams out, "Look at him! HE'S DYING!"

Madison can't think of anything to say. She's already made her decision; what Strand wants, Strand gets.

"Are you people really debating this?" The girl on the raft asks. After everything she's been through, after all the shit she and her burned friend have seen, she looks so tired.

 _God, Strand, she just wants a good night's sleep. Can't we let her have that? Just a_ _ **night**_ _, for crying out loud._

"We could tow 'em." Travis says. "We can tow them. To San Diego. In their raft."

"Travis, what part of what I'm saying-" Strand starts, but Travis all but yells to interrupt.

"They don't come on the boat! Okay? _We're_ safe, _they_ get a chance."

Madison walks over to Strand, staring up at him as he pleads, "Victor."

He stares out to the group, his eyes shifting between Travis and our newfound friends before he stalks off. _Good. Give them a chance._

Once he's gone, Travis goes to the raft, staring down to the girl with soft eyes. "We can give you food, water. Safe passage, but that's all. I'm sorry."

She doesn't respond, but gives a stern nod in place. The rest of us rummage through the boat, grabbing some food, a jug half-filled with water, and some burn cream for the boy. Madison grabs some white towels for them to clean up with. It's not much, but it's the best we can do.

I hand down a few protein bars to the girl as Travis fashions a rope to the boat and the raft, tethering the two. I step away from the rest of them, hopping up the steps and watching over the edge of the first level. Madison unhooks the pair from the edge, and they slowly float out to the long length of the rope. Alycia follows me, standing beside me as I watch the pair.

"At least they're safe." I murmur to her.

"They deserve to be on the goddamn boat." She spits the words out, staring at them.

"I know. But there's nothing we can do."

Madison and Travis walk up the steps, standing beside us as they watch the pair floating. Madison tells us, "They'll be fine out there."

Then Strand comes down the steps with a vigor he didn't previously have, a meat cleaver in hand. Madison and the rest of us ask what he's doing. He ignores our cries. My blood runs cold as he reaches the wooden platform and swings the cleaver down, severing the rope.

"No!" Madison gasps. I cover my mouth in shock. _Bastard. Bloody bastard. You left them to die!_

He says nothing as he walks past us. All he does is stare, begging us to go against him.

We're all in shock, and we're all pissed off. We say nothing.

* * *

By the time we make it to bed, Alycia and I are as quiet as the night before. I'm changing out of my bloodied clothes, not even bothering to get pajamas on. It's too cold for my shorts and sports bra. Instead I change into new jeans and one of the tanks I grabbed from the island. I tuck my knife under my pillow, just in case.

"You wanna talk about it?" I softly ask Alycia as we both settle into bed.

"No." She answers harshly. "I'm pissed _off_."

I frown into my pillow, lightly grasping at the end. "Me too."

And there's not a damn thing we can do about it.

* * *

 _A/N: Alright, day seven is up next! I can't wait until I put it up. It's a great chapter._

 _Also, if any of you are interested in the knife that Tina got, here's a crappy link to a picture of it. (I have a knife-nut for a brother and he said these work really well, so I decided she should get one.) midwayusa product/976873/crkt-fossil-folding-knife-396-serrated-clip-point-8cr13mov-stainless-steel-blade-g-10-handle-black-gray_

 _That's all together, no spaces, but fanfiction won't let me post a whole link._


	14. Chapter 14: Day Seven

_A/N: Guys. **Guys.** It's finally here. Day seven! You know what that means? I need a warning on here now, that's what it means. _

_NSFW Warning: Smut (!) Oral (female receiving,) regular ole' sex, allusions to shower sex._

 _Update as of **5/17/19** : Ah, the day Nick and Tina became **full-canon**. I'm gonna admit, this chapter is the one that has changed the MOST. The beginning was okay, I thought. The smut was okay. But leading up to it, and the end of the chapter itself, I wasn't really happy with those scenes. So I revamped them a LOT._

* * *

I wake after another dreamless sleep, the clock on the nightstand blinking red numbers that read 6:33 AM.

"'Lycia," I mumble. "Time to get up. Breakfast awaits." I'm sure the others are already up. Madison and Travis are early risers that like to get breakfast and coffee ready for the rest of us. Daniel enjoys watching the sunrise, too, so I have no doubts he's already awake.

"No." Alycia mumbles into her pillow, twisting her head to she faces the wall.

"Yes." I reply, sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. I sigh happily as my back pops, releasing some tension from the night. "Food. Fuel. Family."

"Food and family can wait 'till later." She sighs. "Another day, another crisis. Five more minutes, please?"

The word, "Day," rings through my head. Through my waking haze, I realize: day seven. _It's day seven_. Nerves immediately rush through my system, butterflies erupting in my stomach. I don't know what's going to happen today, and I'm excited at the thought.

It brings me a quick surge of energy, and with said energy I throw my pillow to Alycia's head. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!"

She grumbles angrily as the pillow connects to the back of her head. With highly uncoordinated fingers she tries to throw the fluff back, but it barely reaches the frame of my bed. " _Fuck you_ , Cristina Waters."

"You _wish_ , love." I respond cheekily. My palms push themselves onto the mattress, allowing my weight to fall off the bed so I can stand. I properly stretch my arms out and shake myself awake with ease. My CRKT knife is pulled from the spot where my pillow used to be and I shove it into my back pocket. _Better to make it a habit._

"Ugh, you are _way_ too perky." Alycia finally stands from her bed, hands haphazardly shoving her messy locks away from her face. "After everything that went down yesterday, how can you be so... _that?_ "

I shrug. "Just happy, is all."

Shit did happen yesterday. I still want to throw Strand to the sharks, but what's done is done. We can't change it, we can't turn the Abigail around and find the two. I can only hope they made it to land and they're safe. Whatever _safe_ means nowadays.

Alycia looks over my clothing, and with her two working brain cells she goes to her drawer on our shared dresser, rummaging through it before successfully finding something. "Here, wear this on top of the tank."

Her red plaid button-up shirt. Not normally my style, but it's a little cold out. The layer would do me some good.

"Thanks," I say, taking the shirt and shrugging it on my shoulders, slowly buttoning it from the bottom up. I turn away from her so she can change into a new set of clothes without prying eyes. When she gives the okay, the two of us make our way to breakfast, a bit more spring in my step than usal.

"Morning, Madison!" I greet cheerfully as she hands me my cup of tea. The sunlight is bright as it shines through the vast windows surrounding the dining room, illuminating half of our group in a soft glow. Just as expected, Travis and Daniel are here, too. Ophelia is as well. Strand likes to eat by himself in his captain's quarters, so I'm certain he grabbed himself a little grub earlier. Looks like Nick and Chris decided to sleep in.

"Morning..." Madison responds, voice barely there. Her cup of coffee must still be in the pot. Her hand rubs at an eye, willing herself awake. "Eggs and toast are on the counter. We're running low on jam, so just stick with butter."

"Got it." Alycia responds, taking the pot from its stand and pouring her mother a mug of coffee. She rips open a generous amount of sugar packets into it, stirring it with a spoon before handing the cup over to a barely-there Madison. "Drink up, buttercup."

"Can do." She raises the mug in thanks before sipping it, the disgusting bean juice too hot to down in a gulp. I look over her, frowning. She didn't get enough sleep last night.

Then again, it seems like _all_ of us didn't get enough sleep. Yesterday was tiring for everyone, physically and mentally. It feels like we keep trading pains every dawn. My sunburn is nearly completely healed; my arms are burning from killing the infected yesterday. My nightmares go away; I have to live with the fact that there are two people stranded at sea, and there is _nothing_ we can do about it. _Damn_ this world. Nothing can be easy.

"Better?" Alycia asks Madison as she fixes herself a cup.

Madison nods happily. "Much. Now, go eat. Just be sure to leave some for Nick and Chris."

"Sleeping in?" I casually ask as I make a plate of eggs and toast.

Madison answers in between sips of her drink. "Chris could not be woken. Nick decided to take an early shower now that the pipes are workin' again."

I nod, taking a bite of toast. I'll meet with him after breakfast. _Day seven.  
_

* * *

After munching with most of the group, I stroll back to my bedroom, taking the EMT book off of the nightstand. I situate myself on the bed, flipping through the pages until I find where I left off yesterday.

As my back rests against the wall behind me, my knees bend so the book can rest easily in my field of view. With my right hand, I pull my knife out of my pocket, flipping it opened and closed in time with the turn of my pages. I need to get faster at it. _Just in case._ It was very useful yesterday with the horde; I intend for it to be just as useful in the future.

My eyes begin to flick from the pages to the clock on the nightstand. 8:15 AM; chapter 7, how to properly set a splint. 9:45 AM.; 10 pages on proper body mechanics. _Well, consider me confused. I'll admit, I was expecting Nick to seek me out. Considering he was so willing yesterday._ I frown internally, but force myself to stay focused on the information on the page. 10:20 AM; the cardiovascular system and its potential emergencies.

When my eyes start to blur the words together on the page—approximately 11ish—I deem myself worthy of a break. My fingers are getting the hang of flipping the blade back and forth easily. They gently burn at the sensation, but it's good. My muscle memory will be stronger, and that's what I need.

I tuck the blade into my back pocket again, and the EMT book is set onto the nightstand with ease. Taking a few generous steps, I make my way to the door and fully intend to head to the deck. My assumption is that most of the group will be there, lounging the day away. Quietly fuming at Strand, fishing, getting food ready for lunch.

But instead I stop in front of Nick's door, rapping my knuckles against the wood. _If you don't want to find me, that's fine. I'll find you._

He opens the door after a beat, gazing down to me. "Hey."

"Hey-" I start, but Nick interrupts by grabbing my face and planting a chaste kiss on my lips. _Oh. Okay. Unexpected, but happily welcomed_.

I blink. "Well, that was nice. Considering I thought you were avoiding me."

He lets out a chuckle as his hands release me. "Avoiding you? On day _seven_? Absolutely not. Just got a lot on my mind, is all."

"Want to talk about it? We can do that now." I add cheekily. The sass earns a chuckle.

"I'm just—reflecting, I guess." Nick starts, hands absentmindedly grasping my own. His thumb grazes over my skin, lightly tracing invisible patterns. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said a week ago, in Strand's bathroom."

"What part?" I murmur, relaxing in his soft ministrations.

"About being another Gloria." He says, eyes meeting mine. "And I get it. I am _not_ right in the head sometimes, especially when I have shit in my system. And that was what she and I were. Just," he scoffs to himself, looking back down, "shit. I'm better than that. I know I can be." He shrugs, "I was just lost."

"And you're not now?" I ask curiously. His grip on my hands tighten, giving me a gentle squeeze.

"No. I'm here. I'm with family. I'm with you."

I smile softly. "Good. I'm glad."

"Y'know," he starts again, fingers ghosting over my skin absentmindedly. "Gloria and I... we weren't really that big a thing. Sure, she and I were technically together, but it was just drugs and sex. We could have been more, always could've been. We went to rehab together."

"Oh?" I ask, genuinely invested in his words. It's important to him that I hear it, that I understand what he's trying to tell me. And I do.

Nick's fingers gently glide along my palm, drawing more invisible designs. He's so close that I can just barely feel his breath on my cheek as he hovers above me. _I've always laughed at our height difference_. It's comical at best.

"Yeah, that's how we met." He continues. "We could have been more, but it was just physical between us. Nothing like a real relationship. Honestly, I haven't had those in a while. Not since I started using. Nothing like you and I could be."

Those last seven words repeat over and over in my head like a mantra. _Like you and I could be. You and I._

I bring my eyes upward, looking into his. They're clear as day, all his thoughts in the open. I don't miss his glance down to my lips. And when he closes the space between us, I lose all train of thought and completely melt into him.

It's different than the first kiss in Strand's bathroom. That one was passion; heat-of-the-moment. It wasn't calculated. This time, Nick's lips press to mine softly, full of emotion, of everything he's trying to let out. I respond with the same enthusiasm. The joy, worry, and sweet relief from our seven days apart. Nick lingers a moment before pulling away and looking down to me curiously, gauging my reaction.

"Is that what you want?" He asks, voice huskier than before.

"Yes." I say, breathless.

"After all that? After our seven days, did you get what _you_ needed?"

"Yes." Granted, they were a bit broken, but I still think they worked well. His head's clear; my head's clear.

Nick's hands drop mine and they make their way around my waist. Each touch sparks like electricity through my veins. "Then can I kiss you again?"

" _Yes_." I repeat, voice needy with want. I don't miss the mischievous grin—a _true_ grin—on his face as he kisses me. Soft, and gentle. He grips tight to my waist, subtly walking forward and pushing my back against the wall as he pecks another kiss, then another. My mind almost loses all thought as he follows them with a long, bruising kiss. I hum contently, wrapping a hand on one of his arms while the other snakes around his neck, trying to pull him closer. Even though we're completely flush against each other, the contact isn't enough.

Nick's tongue gently glides along my bottom lip before finding its way into my mouth. I don't expect the movement, and let out a breathless pant against him. I can feel his smirk against my mouth as I blush at the sound. My tongue glides against his, needy for the contact, for _any_ contact.

My grip is tight against him through the passionate kiss, and I only pull away when I need to pant for air. He pulls away too, but not before taking a quick nip at my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth. Through the movement, I let out a low moan.

 _Oh, oh no. I did_ _ **not**_ _just moan._

But I did. And Nick is grinning down at me. He plants small, chaste kisses down my chin, trailing more down my neck, curving to just underneath my ear. I shut my eyes, forcing myself to take a breath to calm my hyperactive nerves.

"That was a pretty sound." He comments lowly. "Think I could hear it again?"

And this is the moment where I fully realize where this is going.

My mind thinks it through. I could make a comment for another time. I could leave right now, catch my breath, just like my nerves are telling me to. Nick would understand.

Or, I could stay.

"Bite me again and find out."

His response is to gently nibble at my neck. Pleasure ripples through me as I pant out, my arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer. He bites me again before licking the area to soothe my hot skin.

Bite, suck, lick. Nick repeats the three, leaving me a breathless mess underneath him. Fire runs through my veins with each sensation, and I'm lost in the feelings. It's nothing I've felt before—I don't want it to end. He's sure to leave more than a few angry marks, but the thought gets me _more_ than a little riled up. I want him to mark me. I want him to make me his.

Nick finds my sensitive spot, and roughly bites at it with vigor. And this time, my moan reverberates through the hall. One of his hands pulls away from my waist, covering my mouth to keep me quiet. Sure, the rest of our group is upstairs, but we don't want to attract attention, especially while we fumble around in the bloody hallway.

Another moan is stifled under his hand as he peppers my skin in chaste kisses, following up with a harsh nip. It's great, but not enough. I want more. I _need_ more.

"The door." I moan, pushing his hand away from my mouth. He bites the particularly sensitive spot on my neck again, and I giggle excitedly as I shove him at his bedroom. "Get the door- _ah_."

One of his hands reaches for mine, spinning me to push me backwards through the open frame.

He slams the door shut behind him, locking it quickly with a twist before turning back to me and capturing my mouth in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. My hands go to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, needy, as he bites my lip again.

Nick wastes no time in the motion, pulling away and flinging the blue polo over his head before his hands go to undo the buttons of my flannel.

When he does, I shoulder the sleeves off and let the fabric drift to the floor. His hands roam to the bottom of my tank, taking his time as he bunches it up and flings it over my head. After the layer is shed, I bring my hands behind me to undo the straps of my bra. I'm not as self-conscious as I thought I would be when it slides down my arms and my chest is completely bare to Nick.

He takes a moment, his eyes hungrily roaming over my form. I burn under his gaze.

"Yank," I say lowly, and his brown orbs shoot up to mine. He kisses me, harsh as he grabs my hips and throws me backwards on his bed. I squeal in surprise, laughing as he follows. His form towers over me as he climbs on top, settling his legs between mine. He rests his weight on his elbows, setting them on each side of my head so he can lean down above me.

Nick's lips capture mine, needy with lust. One of his hands trails to my shoulder, down to my chest, and rest on my breast. Experimentally he rolls a nipple underneath his thumb and gauges my reaction. I moan into his mouth, softly. Just enough that I don't need to pull away. I can feel him grinning through each kiss. _So smug, the bastard._

Then his hand slowly trails lower. The path sets each nerve alight, and I can't help but shiver underneath his touch. Nick's hand stops at the top of my jeans, where his fingers tug at the button in effort to undo it.

"Nick." My voice is high this time. Nervous. I swat his hand away, breathing heavily in both excitement and anxiousness.

"What? What's wrong?" He pulls away and shifts his weight back on his legs, looking down to me in concern.

 _Just, nerves, love._

"I..." I bite my swollen lip in trepidation. Burning under his gaze, my hands cover my chest. Then, allowing myself to confess, I whisper, "I don't want to be another Gloria."

 _I don't want this to be just sex. I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I don't want you to leave after this._ Each fear expressed in that one sentence.

Nick's smile is genuine and loving as he stretches back over me. Hands intertwine with my own, pulling them from my form and stretching above my head.

"You're not." He says earnestly. He brings his lips centimeters from mine, hot breaths mingling as he whispers, "You are _so much more._ " To accentuate the truth in his words, he kisses me softly. Slow and deliberate; loving, not lusting.

He hovers overs my face, eyes meeting mine before planting another soft kiss onto my forehead. My eyelids flutter shut at the gentleness of the movement, letting myself get lost in the feeling of him, just him. No nerves, no overthinking. It's just Nick. I can trust him; I _do_ trust him.

Nick sets a kiss atop my nose, onto my chin, before slowly trailing downwards. His hands let go of mine as they follow close behind in his movements. His lips land on my collarbone, the valley between my breasts, onto my stomach and above my belly button, soft kisses peppering my skin and setting it ablaze.

"I can show you, if you'd like." His voice is an octave lower than before as he puts one last kiss just above the top of my jeans. His hands rest on either side of my hips, holding them comfortingly as he looks up to me and awaits my answer.

Oh.

 _Oh._

"Nick, you don't have to do that-" I start, cheeks immediately burning red.

"I know I don't _have_ to; I want to." He corrects me. A hand rubs comfortingly at my tense side. "Only if you say yes."

He waits a beat, staring at me curiously. "T," he says softly. "It's just me. You don't need to be nervous."

 _C'mon, love. Stop being scared. Don't let nerves get the best of you._

"Okay." I let out a puff of air and rest backward on the bed. "Yes."

"Okay." He repeats, and slowly, as if not to startle me, he brings both hands to the front of my jeans, taking his time as he undoes the button and zipper. My jeans are shimmied down my legs, then my underwear, and I'm completely bared to him. It's nerve-racking, to say the least.

"Tina." Nick says, looking up to me.

"What? What's wrong?" I stutter nervously. _What am I doing wrong?_

His hands plant themselves on my thighs. "You're shaking."

I look down, and sure enough my legs are trembling underneath his touch. _Stupid nerves._ "Sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry." Nick tells me, rubbing his hands up and down the length of my thighs comfortingly. "Just relax. This is supposed to be fun, not stressing."

 _God, I can kill seven infected in a row without blinking an eye, but_ _ **this**_ _is what sets me off like no tomorrow._

"I know, I know." I hide my face in my hands. I'm sure to be redder than a tomato at this point. "Just, I dunno, just distract me." I peak through my fingers at him, and I see him smile endearingly.

"Okay," he says, and he shimmies his weight backwards so he can settle his head between my thighs. His voice is lower, more seductive and serious. "What do you like? Fingers? Tongue?" His hands wrap around my thighs, holding me in place so he can adjust accordingly.

"I-I don't know." I answer honestly. I gasp as I feel his wet mouth on the inside of my thigh, biting gently at the skin. _Definitely that._

"I thought you said you screwed someone sophomore year?" He muses as he nibbles gently, moving upward. "What was her name again?"

"Bela." I pant out as he kisses just above my center. "I told you, we never did much. More fumbling around than anything. I sorta fingered her. It was awkward."

"I see." He hums, and experimentally licks a stripe up my folds. My breath hitches in my throat. _Oh._

"Like that?" Nick hums, teasing. "How about this?" His hot mouth curls around my clit, gently sucking.

" _Ah!_ " I moan, unable to control myself. "Nick."

"I'll take that as a yes." He comments, sucking again and flicking it with his tongue. My hands go to his hair, pulling at the strands tightly to bring him closer to my entrance.

"Niiick," I hum his name incoherently as he swirls his tongue around my clit, and I quickly get lost in the sensations. The heels of my feet dig into the mattress, pushing myself up against his mouth as his tongue swirls back down to my entrance and dips into it. "Oh, fuck. Don't stop."

He takes his time, figuring out what makes me moan, what I enjoy, what I don't. What he can do to make me writhe underneath his touch, begging for more. We both forget the rest of the world and the group above. I don't try to be quiet as he edges me on. I don't care.

I'm close to my release when he inserts a finger into my folds. I'm not expecting it, but welcome the new sensation fully as I pant out, desperate for the chord in me to finally break. He pumps it quickly and deeply, inserting another finger as he continuously brings me closer to my release.

"Nick! _Ah!_ " My fingers tighten in his hair, tugging harsher than I mean to, but I don't think either of us care in the moment. "So close, I'm gonna-"

"No, you're not." He pulls his fingers away and slows his ministrations with his tongue. I whine loudly in protest at the loss. _Fuck. More, I need more._

"Nick, please." I beg.

"Please what?" _Oh, you bastard._ I moan in response; it's the only thing I _can_ do without thinking too much. When I don't respond in actual words, he pulls away fully from me. "Please, what?"

"Please, _fuck me_."

Those two words were just what he was waiting for. He brings his face to mine, harshly kissing me as his hand fumbles at his jeans. The taste of myself lingers on his lips. A haze in my head thinks, "This should _not_ be as bloody hot as it is." I follow Nick unconsciously as he pulls away from me so I sit up with him. Feeling brave, my hand grabs at him through his jeans before sliding into the hem. He groans as I rub at his hardened length, and I grin as I pull my hand out and undo the button for him. He discards them and his boxers quickly, cock springing free as he throws the clothes to the other side of the room.

Nick climbs back on the bed, pushing at my shoulders so I fall back down on the mattress and he climbs back on top. He situates himself in between my legs, spreading them apart before he pumps himself in preparation.

"I don't—I don't have a condom." He tells me, looking up. "Is that okay?"

It's a heavy question, but one I answer easily. "Yeah," I say with a nod. "We'll just have to remember to grab some next time we head to land, yeah?"

"Definitely." He agrees, capturing my lips in a soft kiss. With his lips still on mine, he teases my entrance with his cock, rubbing it back and forth gently before easing himself in.

Nick moans softly, pressing his forehead against mine as our breaths intermingle. He goes slowly, entering all the way and filling me up, then rolling his hips out and back in a slow pace. It's comfortingly slow, as he doesn't want to overload me. _Too bloody slow, if you ask me._

"You okay?" He groans out, face close to mine. A hand grips tightly at my waist as he holds himself in place, allowing me to adjust to the feeling of being so full.

"Mmhmm," I hum against him, needy. I swirl my hips, desperate for more. "Move, Nick. I'm fine."

Without warning, he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back into me. I squeal at the feeling, but it's quickly turning from uncomfortable to pleasurable. "You sure?"

"Very much so."

He nods and begins to pick up his pace, slow ministrations becoming harsh and rapid. My arms grip around his form, nails clawing at his back as his head curls its way into the crook of my neck and he bites down. _That is going to be_ _ **so**_ _ **sore**_ _after._

Heated breaths, panting, and moaning fill the room as he continuously gains speed in his thrusts. I can feel my orgasm building once more, the heated pleasure bubbling just beneath the surface; the chord waiting to snap.

" _Fuck,_ Nick, right there!" I moan as he hits a spot inside me, pleasure rippling through me as I jerk from the sensitivity. His hand pulls at my knee, bending it back so he can reach deeper, hitting the same spot over again. " _Ah,_ Nick!" is the only sound I can make. I'm close, _too_ close to form any coherent words besides his name.

Nick is close, too. His thrusts become erratic, breathing uneven with every move. I can _feel_ just how close he is, how his cock throbbing inside me is just waiting to release.

"Nick-" I moan his name one last time, wanting to tell him how close I was. He already knew.

"Come. _Now._ " He commands, and the chord finally breaks.

Unintelligible noises spill from me as sparks dance in my vision, my release coming at full force. The pleasant warmth spreads through me as I spasm beneath him, each touch overriding my senses.

"Fuck!" Nick pulls away from me, his hand automatically going to his length as he erratically pumps himself, his release catching up. His seed spills over my stomach, strands of the sticky white settling on my hot skin.

He falls to a spot on the mattress beside me, both of us trying to catch our breaths. I bring my hands to my face—my disgustingly _sweaty_ face—and push away the rat's nest that's become my hair. I look over to Nick, grinning as I breathe heavily.

"Guess that means I'm not forbidden fruit anymore, huh?" I pant out cheekily, my chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

"Eh," He teases back with a grin, hand searching for mine and intertwining our fingers together. "I guess not."

* * *

The sun beats down on us from the window above, just barely reaching my eyes. Throughout this whole ordeal, I nearly forgot there was an outside world. Other people on the boat. For a blissful moment, all I could think of was me and Nick.

His hand falls away from mine as he pushes himself off the bed, moving to the other side of the room.

"How-" I take in another breath. My air is finally close to evening out but I'm not quite there yet. "How can you even _think_ about moving right now?"

Nick chuckles as he grabs his jeans from the floor and rummages the front pockets. "Just need a cigarette. I'll be right back."

He yanks one out of his pack and grabs his red lighter before strolling back to the bed.

"While you grab that, wanna get me a tissue?" I ask. Of course he nods and grabs one from a tissue box, handing it to me. I thank him and wipe away the seed from my stomach.

Still naked, Nick hops on the windowsill and pushes it open a crack. We're on the edge of the Abigail, so technically none of our group could see him outside, but I still would _never._ I'm a prude, I guess. Still, I don't bother commenting and leave Nick to have his after-sex cigarette break in peace.

At least, until he puts out the stick and my breathing is back to normal, allowing me to sass him just a bit.

"Cigarettes after sex?" I comment. I sit upright, gently pulling the covers on the bed to cover my bottom half. "Could you be any more of a cliché?"

"I could." He shrugs, smirking. "I could start spouting French and dramatically proclaim my love."

Nick scoots himself to the edge of the sill, leaning his head down. "Did you know that, when the moon hits your eye, like a big piece of pie, that's amore?"

I scoff playfully back. "When the world seems to shine, like you've had too much wine?"

"That's amore." He nods with a goofy grin.

I lean forward, closer to his face as I whisper out, "I don't think I _quite_ believe you."

"Trust me, I'm an expert." Nick hums back teasingly before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I hum contently against him, the taste of myself and cigarettes on him, but pull away far too quickly for my own liking.

"C'mon, the others are probably wondering where we are." I say, standing up. _Oh yeah, my legs are already feeling sore. Great._ "The day is still young."

I shrug on my jeans as Nick lightly complains, "Do we really _have_ to? Why can't we stay here, just the two of us?" He hops from the windowsill to the floor, and I feel his chest press against my back, his arms curling around my middle. He whispers into my ear, "Just you, and me, and no worries. We could keep having _fun_."

"No, yank." I playfully shove him off and grab at my shirts and bra on the floor. "We have things to do." I find his jeans and boxers beside my stuff, and I grab and toss them over.

"Boring." He sticks his tongue out as he throws his clothes on.

"Damn right. Cristina Waters, certified party pooper." I stick my tongue out back. My hands pat my back pockets, and I worry as I don't feel my knife in them. "Shit," I mutter.

I take a few cautious steps around the room, searching for it. The bloody thing slid out of the pocket, setting itself just barely underneath Nick's bed.

"What is it?" Nick asks as I triumphantly grab it. I hold it out for him to see, flicking it open and closed in demonstration. "Find it yesterday?"

"Yeah." I answer softly, tucking it back into my pocket. "On the island. It's good, I guess. Found some pepper spray, too."

"Good." He replies. With ease he shrugs his blue polo on, and I laugh at the state of his hair. "What?"

I bring my fingers up his locks, trying to pat them down but to no avail. "There's no saving this, yank. Do you have a hairbrush? At least _try_ to make it look normal."

"Oh, you think _this_ is bad?" Nick teases, bringing a hand to my hair. "Don't look in the mirror. Yours is worse."

I comb my fingers through my hair to get rid of some of the snarls, but it's too much to fix. Way too much. "Alright, I'm shaving it off then."

"Don't you dare." His hand unlocks the door. "Wear after-sex hair like a badge of honor."

"No." I walk through the door and quickly run to my bedroom, finding a hairbrush in Alycia's bag and quickly tame my tresses. "Okay, better. Now I can face the rest of them."

"Just don't put your hair up, then." Nick comments, gently pushing away my blonde and brown streaks. "I _may_ have done a number on you. Sorry."

"Don't be." I stand on my tip-toes so I can reach his height. "I liked it. A _lot_." Wearing a smirk, I kiss him gently. "I'll wear a nun's habit from now on. Easy fix."

"Please, no."

I laugh as I pull away from him, trekking out of the room with him in tow. We leisurely stroll up the stairs and to the dining hall.

Looks like the rest of the group has already dispersed around the Abigail. Daniel and Chris are out on the main deck, fishing poles flung over the edge. Alycia and Ophelia are on one of the couches in the living area, chatting animatedly. The only two in the kitchen are Madison and Travis, working to cook up some lunch. Coming from the smell wafting from Travis' pan, it's some of the fish Chris caught yesterday.

"Nick, you missed breakfast." Madison chastises.

Nick shrugs as he takes a seat at the table. "Just lost track of time, mom. No worries. I ate _plenty_ this morning."

My eyes lock with his as I sit on the couch beside Ophelia, my cheeks warming as he smirks.

"Uh huh. Don't make it a habit. I'm not gonna start setting plates aside for you when you decide to come down."

"Duly noted."

* * *

 _THREE DAYS LATER_

I spend most of my evening jotting down notes from my EMT book in bed. Gunshots are my priority today, and there's a good four pages in my tiny scrawl in my notebook. It's been a peaceful few days on the Abigail; something I could get used to. Hopefully Baja is the same when we get there.

The clock on the nightstand reads 5:45 PM, and I sigh. _I've been at this for over two hours._ I pray that some info will stick. I'm getting better with memorizing, but I need to fix instructions to apocalyptic times, which throws me off. No calling 911. No waiting for higher trained personnel. Next time we head to shore I'll need to grab another book or two with more emergency _room_ -based information.

With ease I toss the book and notes back onto the nightstand, ready to head to the dining room. Dinner's probably finished. _Let me guess. Fish, eel, maybe some peas from a can._ We've been running low on food. Whatever the boys can catch is breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It's not always the best-tasting, but at least we haven't gone hungry. Yet.

I open my door and saunter down the hall, just about to hop up the stairs and past the shower room before I hear a familiar voice calling my name.

"What?" I turn, and see Nick heading up to me. The edge of my lip quirks in a grin.

"Hey! I've barely seen you all day." He says, eyes searching the hallway before he leans down for a quick peck.

"No!" I pull away from him, scrunching my nose in disgust. "You smell like fish, gross."

He shrugs. "I was _fishing._ Sue me."

"Either way," I roll my eyes playfully, "I'm not kissing you until after you shower."

"How about _in_ the shower?" He waggles his brows.

"Seriously, yank?" I huff, shoving him closer to the shower room's door. "You're worse than a horny teenager. Go shower." He may not have hung out with me today, but he certainly did yesterday, alone, at night. I told Alycia I took a late-night shower and hung on deck because, "I couldn't sleep." She bought it, considering my track record of nightmares, but the raise of her eyebrow lead me to believe she wasn't fully sold.

Nick and I still aren't sure whether we want people to know just yet. It's a small group, so they're bound to find out eventually, but still. We'll enjoy our privacy for the moment.

"Is that a no?" He asks, smirking. "Because that could be a lot of fun. You've liked everything else we've tried so far. Hmm?"

"Nick-"

"C'mon, everyone else is upstairs getting dinner ready. We're all alone. No one could hear us over the water running anyway."

"Go. Shower." I say one last time, answer shaky but final.

"Fine." Nick concedes. He takes a step backwards to the door, taking his shirt off and letting it fall to the ground. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

My eyes roam over his bare chest and smug face before he strides into the shower room, shutting it behind him. I wait by the door, my eyes looking up to the stairs on my right. Then back to the door as I hear the water being turned on.

 _You know what? Fuck it._

 _Well, fuck_ _ **him**_ _, rather._

* * *

"That was a lot more yoga than I was expecting." I pant out, grabbing towels hung on a hook beside the shower stall. I toss one over to Nick and wrap my middle in the other, covering myself. "I didn't like it as much as the other stuff we tried."

I step fully out of the stall, passing others in the small wash room and go through the walkway before reaching the dry area where we tossed our clothes.

Nick follows behind me, a happy post-coital smile gracing his features and towel wrapped around his waist. "Agreed. I'm glad we tried it, but maybe we stick more to stuff in a bed. Or a couch, I'm not too picky."

"Nick." I laugh. I am _never_ screwing him on a couch. At least not on the Abigail.

"It's the truth." He coolly shrugs. "But we both agree; no more shower sex?"

"No more shower sex." I nod and reach up to his face to lazily kiss him, keeping my face close to his as I add, "But I'm really hungry now. Hopefully dinner's almost ready."

"Should be. We didn't catch much. A couple eels again."

"Gross."

I pull my hand away from him, but place another chaste kiss to lips before pulling away. When I turn to grab my clothes from a dry hook, another voice reaches my ears.

"Hey, Nick, you left your shirt out here!"

Madison.

 _Shit._

I have zero time to think before she opens the door with Nick's shirt in hand, intending to hand it over to him. She did not expect there to be _two_ people in the room, certainly not her son with her daughter's best friend. Nick and I just stand, petrified at Madison's reaction.

She stares at us, shock evident on her face. Then realization. Then anger.

 _Shit._ _ **Shit.**_

The door swings closed behind her, the only sound reverberating through the silent room.

"Hi, mom." Nick starts lamely. _Either say something or leave, please._ _I am so uncomfortable._ My hand tightens around the top of my towel, pulling it closer. I feel exposed to her burning eyes. The shirt slips through Madison's fist and onto the floor silently, and I all but pray for the ground to swallow me whole.

She sets her arm to her side as she asks coldly, "How long has this been going on?"

Nick answers promptly for us. "A few days."

"Are you using protection?" She asks immediately after, eyes glaring between us.

"We haven't… found any condoms on the ship, so-"

"Are you serious, Nick?!" I jump in place at the sudden change in tone, startled. She hisses out, "You guys are screwing around on this goddamn boat and you're not using anything? Do you _want_ to get her pregnant?! _Especially_ at a time like this?"

"No, mom!" He raises his voice to reach her tone. "Jesus! We just haven't found anything, so we've been pulling out-"

"Oh, you _know_ the pull-out method is bull." She stares between us, her stance on us clear. With a heavy huff she shakes her head, turning and leaving the room.

Just as she steps through the open door, she throws over her shoulder, "Dinner's ready. Go upstairs." The door falls shut behind her, a heavy clang ringing through my ears.

Quietly I look up to Nick, eyes searching through his as he stares to the door. Then I stutter out, "That didn't go well."

Nick shrugs, obviously jarred from the experience, too. "She's intense when it comes to-"

"Intense?!" I squeak, my words blurring together. "That was terrifying! I thought she liked me? She's always liked me, why's shesobloodymad?!"

"Because I'm her kid," he answers simply, looking back to me. "She's protective, you know that."

"I just," I shake to recharge my thoughts. "I don't like being on her bad side, is all."

"She'll get over it." Nick says, setting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "The second we find some condoms you'll be on her good side again."

"And you're sure it's not just… _us_ together?"

"I don't." He answers honestly. "But she'll get over that, if it is."

"Yeah?"

"Well, do you want to break up?"

I scoff. "Obviously not."

"Then that leaves one option for her. Get over it. And she will, just give her time. She just needs to be mad first."

* * *

 _A/N: Ahh, finally. A chapter pretty much solely dedicated to Nick and Tina. Wonderful._

 _Next chapter we go back to tv plot, but it was great while it lasted, right? And I just wanted to add that I hope the actual smut was realistic. At least, more realistic than other stories I've read. I hate when a writer gets into the thick of it and the characters know exactly what to do, y'know? Sex isn't always perfect. It's messy; it's being vulnerable to another person, it's discovering what the two like together. And I wanted to express that here._

 _So enjoy, ladies and gents. Enjoy ;)_


	15. Chapter 15: Boat Snatchers

_A/N: Alright, all! A new chapter awaits your viewing. I'm probably going to switch gears and focus on my original Walking Dead story after posting this. That one needs a little love, too. This one's been on a roll lately, so I hope you all don't mind!_

 _NSFW Warning: Teeny tiny bit of smuttish tendencies, very very light breath play and hair pulling kinks. Veeery light. Blink-and-you-miss-it light._

 _Update as of **5/19/19** : FINALLY! Welcome to the New World's facelift is DONE! Time to get back to writing new content for this bad boy!_

* * *

"Do you think she told anyone at the table?"

"Nah. Knowing her she fixed herself some eel and went back to her room. She isolates herself when she needs to think."

"Good." I sigh. "I'm sorry, I just-I'm not sure if I want people to know just yet."

"It's okay." Nick says. He runs a hand through his mostly dried hair before looking down to me. "Ready?"

"No." I mumble. My hair is soaked, my clothes are sticking to me, and Nick looks pretty much the same. Granted, his hair is loads shorter than mine so it's closer to dry, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to connect the dots. _I should've just gone upstairs. Bloody hell._

"C'mon, T." He smiles reassuringly, grabbing my hand and giving it a soft squeeze. "It'll be fine."

I huff, recharging my thoughts. "Fine. You go first."

And he does after dropping my hand. With ease he opens the door and strolls through. I follow, up the stairs and to the dining hall, where the rest of the group, sans Strand and Madison (thank god,) is waiting.

They're already chowing on two cooked eels and some corn on the table, barely bothering to look up when Nick and I take seats on opposite sides of the wood. I take a spot by Ophelia and gently toss some corn onto my plate and fill up a small glass with water from the plastic jug on the table, mostly quiet while I thoughtlessly listen to the chatter.

"-Right, Tina?" I hear a voice ask through the noise.

"What?" I ask, shaking my head awake. "Sorry, not listening. What'd you say?"

"Your medical book." Travis says, looking to me. "You must've read that thing a dozen times this past week."

"Oh, yeah." I answer, taking a small bite of eel. "I've studied so much of the human anatomy these past couple of days." _Ha._ I purposefully keep my eyes away from Nick's across the table. "Next time we head to shore I want to grab another book or two. Maybe something on trauma and emergency room procedures."

"Definitely. That, and some more medical supplies."

"And more food." Alycia adds, her fork flicking corn across her plate. "We're running low."

"We're running low on everything." Strand announces as he hops down the stairs with an empty plate. "But my home in Baja will provide us with everything we need."

We regard him coldly as he leans over to grab some more food from the table. While we've accepted that the pair are gone, we still aren't happy with him cutting the rope on the strangers in the raft.

"How long?" I ask him, voice quiet. "'Till we get there?"

"A few more days." He replies coolly, taking a generous bite of eel from his plate. "We're close to crossing the border. Shouldn't be much longer."

"Good." Travis says, standing from his spot with his empty plate and glass to clean up. "The quicker we get there, the safer we'll be."

Daniel mutters something under his breath as he stands with his dishes, but I can't make out his words. It's so quiet that they jumble in my ear. That, and when he makes a sly comment he tends to say it in Spanish, so I'm fucked either way.

The two men head over to the counter, tossing the items in the sink before dispersing in different directions. Strand takes another bite of eel, savoring its disgusting flavor as he leans on the spiral stairs that lead up to his personal quarters.

I pick slowly at my food. I hate the taste of eel, and I never really found corn to be filling. But, that's what a girl gets tonight. _Eat up, buttercup._

The sound of a door opening enters my ears, and I cautiously look up to the sound. Madison heads in, her plate and glass empty. Her eyes meet with mine, still _seething_ and angry, before she pulls away and heads to the sink. Alycia gazes over to her mom and frowns at the cold shoulder.

Nick and I share a look. _Should we say anything? Doesn't exactly look like she wants to talk._ Still, he tries as she sets her dirty dishes in the sink. "Mom—"

"Nope!" She interrupts, waving dismissively over her shoulder. "No."

"Madison." I say cautiously. _I should not have._

Her feet stomp heavily as she treks back to the door with vigor. "I said _no_."

Thankfully she doesn't slam the door behind her, but the air in the room drops a few degrees with her cold demeanor. I bite at my bottom lip in worry. _Bloody hell. I did not expect her to be so mad._

"What was that all about?" Chris asks the silent room. I sink deeper into my chair, wanting to hide for the rest of eternity.

"Nothing." Nick answers quickly. "She's just mad at me. She'll deal."

A quiet snicker rings in my ear, and my head shoots up to the sound. Alycia pats at her mouth with a napkin, trying to hide her ever-growing smirk.

"Alycia—" Nick warns. Her hand grasps at the napkin tighter as her laugh becomes louder.

"Did she-" She starts, dropping the white cloth and laughing again. "Did she-"

"Please don't-" I add, glaring to her in desperation. _Shit._ I don't need to say anything; the blush on my face gives it away.

"She DID!"

"Oh, my." Ophelia grins down to her plate, chuckling quietly to herself. _No. Don't you dare_. Nick sighs in defeat, looking over to me. His eyes read, "I tried," and I let my head fall to my hands, fingers covering my eyes from the unfolding mess.

"What-what?" Chris looks over the four of us. "I don't get it, what happened?"

"Mom found _these two_ ," Alycia points between me and Nick with a shit-eating grin. I peak through my fingers to glare at her for explaining. " _TOGETHER_!"

"Huh?" Chris asks, and I get to enjoy the horrifying moment where the meaning sinks in. " _Oh!_ "

"I'm going to KILL you, Alycia!" I groan into my palms.

Alycia bursts out laughing raucously, her fist banging on the table when she can't breathe enough to continue her overzealous squeals. Ophelia can't hold back either, but she's doing a better job than Alycia. Ophelia merely chuckles whole-heartedly, snickering loudly while I groan in embarrassment. Chris stares between me and Nick, eyes wide and looking like he'd much rather be anywhere else. I stare at Nick in defeat. _Dammit._

If things couldn't get any worse, a deep chuckle reaches my ears among the kids. _Fuck, Strand is still here!_

A heavy pat rests on my shoulder, and with defeat I uncover my face to look up at him. The triumphant grin is extremely noticeable. "And you said he wasn't your boyfriend."

"Piss off, Strand."

 _This is_ _ **not**_ _how I wanted dinner to go tonight. Bloody hell, now_ _ **everyone**_ _knows!_

I stand from my chair and hurriedly shove my dishes into the sink.

"If any of you need me," I announce, "I will be hiding. Alone. Maybe I'll jump overboard, I haven't decided yet."

More laughter ensues from the group, sans Nick, who isn't blushing as much as me, but his cheeks have definitely tinted red from the lovely dinner conversation. I nearly run to the door that takes me a level down to get to my bedroom. I speed down the steps, blush still prominent.

 _I swear to god_ , _throwing myself overboard sounds pretty damn good._

When I shut the door behind me, I lean my back heavily against it and sigh loudly. My head beats against it, letting out some tension.

"Wonderful." I say to the air. " _Bloody_ wonderful."

* * *

KNOCK KNOCK

I flick my knife open and closed on my bed to a quick mental count when the sound startles me. My eyes gleam to the wood, flicking the knife shut as I answer, "If your name starts with, 'A,' and ends in, 'worst best friend ever,' then please note that you have been evicted from this room."

"Ha ha, very funny." Nick's muffled voice answers. "Can I come in, please?"

"I guess I'll allow it." He opens the door as I tuck my knife back into my pocket, and I give a half-hearted wave. My legs are tucked under me, my hands intertwining on bent knees as I ask, "How do you feel about dating a killer? I might just throw your sister overboard, I need to know if that's a deal-breaker."

"A little bit." He chuckles, settling in at the edge of my bed. "C'mon, they were gonna find out eventually."

"It's only been four days, yank." I shuffle to him, resting my head in the crook of his neck. "I just, I dunno, thought we could be private about it for a week, at least."

"Shit doesn't go to plan, sometimes." He muses, resting his head atop mine. With ease he snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "It happens."

"We'll have to deal with Alycia's teasing now," I think, a small grin escaping me.

" _Oh, yeah._ "

"And I'm sure your mom and Travis will make us sit on opposite sides of the boat for eternity."

"Probably." He chuckles.

I pull my head away from him, turning so I can look up to him curiously. "You don't seem to mind it."

Nick shrugs, eyes gazing to mine. "I don't, not really. When I hide shit, it usually involves needles and some pharmaceutical. Considering this big secret of mine this time is that I have a girlfriend? I think my mom should be relieved." The little jab makes me chuckle, and his arm around me squeezes in reassurance. "So, no, I don't think it should be hidden; I _don't_ want it hidden. I can deal with the teasing and the overprotective mom. I've been dealing with them all my life."

"Well, lucky you." I muse. "I've never had a sibling to tease. And I've never had a relationship that my parents would be protective about. It's... Different, I guess."

He looks down to me, smiling. "Different can be good."

"Different can be _great,_ once I get used to it."

"Exactly." Nick nods, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on my lips. I respond happily, shifting from my spot to meet him comfortably. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer.

I shift in my spot to face him, pulling away gently as I let out a breath. _If Nick Clarke can do one amazing thing, it's leaving me breathless._ I sit up on my knees as I lick my lips, grinning down to Nick. My fingers gingerly rest themselves on his cheeks as I lean down to kiss him again, open-mouthed and lazy as I dip my tongue in his mouth.

One of his hands pushes my messy hair out of my face, grasping the unruly strands in a fist. He tugs at it as his other hand grasps at my thigh, swinging it over his lap so I sit on him. I gasp into his mouth as he grinds onto me.

"Oh, that's how this is gonna go?" I lightly tease as he grinds up to me again, rougher in his ministrations. I circle my hips back in a figure eight, and a soft moan escapes Nick. _Ha_ _._

"I'm not hearing you say no." Nick notes, mouth ghosting over my own in a smirk.

"Like I'd ever-" I stop as he yanks my hair back, the sound replaced by a surprised yelp. His hand tugs tightly at my hair again—something we've discovered I enjoy _very much_ —and he peppers my exposed neck in soft nibbles.

We set a gentle pace, rocking back and forth, circling our hips until the both of us are panting messes and I can feel his hardened length through our jeans. With another harsh rut onto him and my mouth nipping at his bottom lip, Nick's hands guide me down to the mattress underneath, letting my back fall to it easily.

As I settle myself comfortably underneath him and he situates himself above me, giving one last harsh grind of our hips, he plants chaste kisses on my lips. These are kisses I enjoy too much; ones where we're both grinning, yearning for each other, dying for contact and fumbling just to get closer. One of his hand sets itself on the mattress to prop himself up, the other around my neck, squeezing just lightly. Another thing we've discovered I enjoy in our adventures.

"Nick." I pant into his mouth as he tightens his grip on my neck a smidge. My hand finds its way up to his, covering it in a soft grip. He's grinning to me. Something I've discovered that _Nick_ enjoys; begging. He loves to hear me whine out his name, to hear me plead for more. I hum underneath his touch. " _Please_."

"As you wish." He whispers into my open mouth, and tightens his grip. I gasp, a hazy cloud spreading over me as I close my eyes and get lost in the feeling. He waits a beat before letting go, kissing me gently to ease my senses. His hand guides itself down my form, stopping above my jeans so it can fumble with the button.

The mood is completely ruined as the door to the room flies open, Alycia ready to walk in before her eyes settle on the two of us in bed.

"OH MY _GOD_ -"

Nick pulls away from me as Alycia immediately slams the door shut in front of her eyes. I squeak in embarrassment, my mind replaying the last three seconds as I push myself as far up my bed as possible, giving a wide berth between me and Nick. My ears fill with Alycia's muffled, unintelligible noises on the other side of the door.

Nick groans, irritated, as he quickly shoves his hair out of his face. I readjust my shirt as I squeak out, "You didn't lock the door?!"

"I wasn't expecting to screw around with you when I came in here! I just wanted to make sure you were okay!"

"OH. MY. _GOD!_ " Alycia screams on the other end. I pray no one else is around to hear her.

I hiss out to Nick, "I'm fine, thanks for asking! Bloody hell, yank, you know how you get when-"

"JESUS CHRIST, GUYS, IDON'TWANTTOHEARIT!"

I roll my eyes at Alycia's over-dramatic screeching. "YOU CAN COME IN, ALYCIA!"

Nick heads to the door, opening it for her as he adds, "We're not doing anything X-rated. _Now._ "

Alycia stays by the door as she remarks, "Well, next time, lock the damn door! Or at least screw in _your_ room, Nick."

"Hey, this is _my room,_ too, 'Lych." I comment.

"Either way, I'm scarred for life, thanks, guys."

"You're welcome." Nick says, pushing by her through the open door. He looks back to me, saying, "G'night, T." Then he turns to Alycia, a shit-eating grin on his face as he tells her the same thing.

"Yeah, yeah, good night!" She shoves past him and through the bedroom door, quickly closing it behind her before she stares at me with wide eyes. " _Really?_ "

I can't help but grin. "And so it begins."

"So _what_ begins?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

"The part in our relationship where every time we want a minute alone, we're interrupted by some other-worldly forces, like his sister and mom. Wonderful."

"I think I might vomit."

"I think I don't care." I stick my tongue out at her, laughing. "At least we didn't screw in your bed. Ooh, that would be wonderful revenge for tonight's dinner chat."

"Please don't. I'll have to burn the sheets." She sets herself into her covers, pulling them close to herself. Her eyes gaze over to me. "I really like them. Please don't do that."

"No promises, love." I respond cheekily.

"You are awful, Tina."

"Damn right." I pull my covers up, covering myself and sinking into my mattress comfortably as I say, "Wanna get the light?"

* * *

"Should I shoot them?! _Dad?!_ "

"Please, PLEASE HELP! She's in distress!"

"Madison, Travis!"

"Something's wrong! Something's wrong with my baby!"

" _Please,_ help her!"

I hear the screams through my sleep, interrupting my dream. Through my sleepy haze, my eyes curiously check the clock. It's not even morning. _What the hell is going on?_

"Tina?" Alycia calls into the darkness. "Can you hear that?"

I throw the blankets off haphazardly, shoving my knife into my pocket. My blood runs cold, a spark of fear igniting my veins. "The voices that aren't our group? Yeah. Something's wrong."

My hand goes to her backpack, shaking as I try to open the front flap. When I find the pepper spray I tuck it into my sleeves, keeping it in my palm but hidden from prying eyes.

"What happened?" She asks, standing from her bed.

"I don't know." I answer, keeping my voice calm. "But we're gonna find out. You have any weapons?"

"What? No—no, I don't have anything."

"Take the pepper spray." I shove my hand to her, jutting it out.

She shakes her head. "Tina, no, we don't know if they're dangerous."

" _Please,_ Alycia, _take it._ " My voice shakes as I press it closer to her. "If anything happened to you, I-"

"Nothing's gonna happen, Tina. Keep it."

I know her. When she makes a decision, she sticks to it. No matter how hard anyone tries to talk her out of it; even me. "Fine." I resolve. "But I go out first."

"Sure, okay."

I tuck the spray back into my palm as I open the door, keeping myself in front of her. The pair of us immediately hear groans of pain from a woman shakily waddling down the hall, Madison helping to keep her steady. I take in the newcomer's chopped, messy brown locks from the back, along with a watermelon-sized, hard stomach, and the blood running down her legs. _Shit. I hope the baby's okay._

"Mom, what's going on?" Alycia asks cautiously, her ears trained on the pregnant woman's gasps of pain.

"The baby's in distress." Madison looks back to us, chocolate brown eyes full of caution and warmth as she desperately tries to help the woman.

"Who's that?" I ask.

"Just stay in the room, okay?" Madison avoids the question. "Both of you, please. We'll handle this."

Alycia and I jerk confused nods as the pair limply walk away, heading to the bathroom across the hall. Madison reassuringly murmurs, "Almost there. We're almost there."

As the pair pass the corner, I quickly take generous steps to the next door over, rapping my knuckles against the wood. "Nick?"

No response. I try again, my knuckles clicking quicker against the material. "Nick. Something's wrong."

When I receive no response a second time I grab the doorknob and open the room a crack, sticking my head in and searching his bed. The sheets are neatly made. He hasn't slept in them.

"What's wrong?" Alycia tries to peek through the opening. "Is he still sleeping?"

"He's not in there." My breath hitches in my throat as I pull away and shut the door as softly as possible. My heartbeat races unconsciously in worry. _Where could he have gone? Is he with the others?_ "He's not-"

"I'm sure he's fine, Tina." Alycia says, though it sounds like she's speaking more to herself than me. "C'mon, let's see if the others are okay." Then her eyes widen, and she cocks her head to the stairs.

I go to step in front of her, like I told her I would in the room, but she takes the first steps through the hallway and up the stairs. My eyes search hers curiously. It's like she's in a trance.

One of the newcomers is speaking to Travis, Ophelia, Chris, and Daniel, seemingly trying to explain their story. I note that Daniel and Chris are the only ones armed, both cautiously holding guns—Chris, a handgun, and Daniel his trusty shotgun—while they look to the stranger speaking.

His hair is shaggy and jet black, and he has a square jaw. He dons multiple layers and jeans that are far too big for him. The other stranger's hair is dark brown, messy and unkempt. His face is rounded, eyes strikingly dark. Like the other, he wears multiple layers, but he has a visible handgun tucked into his jeans and what seems to be an empty backpack slung on his shoulders. He watches his friend tell their tale animatedly.

Alycia stares blankly at the pair, shuffling forward slowly. _What the hell is wrong with you?_

"Our hull got dinged when we were leaving the marina in Long Beach." The dark-haired stranger says. "We—we panicked. We thought we patched it up good, but we rushed it. Then we started taking on water and the engine flooded."

And a flash of realization flows through Alycia. "Jack?"

 _Fuck. No._ My grip tightens on the pepper spray. We were caught. We're being taken over. Not friendly's; our stalkers.

Daniel looks over to her, his voice soft but eyes full of fear. "What did you do?"

"Madison." Travis gasps. _She's all alone with the pregnant lady. But, she's pregnant, she couldn't do much harm, right?_

The stranger with short hair yanks the pistol out of his waistband, immediately whipping Travis in the face with it. Travis falls to the ground heavily, groaning. In the second after the same stranger manages to knock the shotgun out of Daniel's hands and slides it over the deck, far away from us. Jack un-arms Chris quickly in the same beat. The two then point their guns out to the rest of us menacingly.

"Try anything, well," the brown-haired stranger gives a heartless laugh, "don't think we need to finish that sentence, do we?"

With ease, he bends and gets behind Travis, shrugging off his backpack as he does. He only opens the front flap, grabbing some wires to bind Travis' hands together.

"So, this is the Alycia you spoke to." The stranger asks. He wears a sickening grin as he pulls the ties tightly together. _He enjoys this too much._

"Looks like it." Jack answers, eyes trained solely on Alycia as he points his gun out to the rest of us. _Creep._

"And who's her friend?" The stranger asks, grabbing at Ophelia's hands.

Then he takes a second, pulling away. "Actually, I think you can handle this one. Ophelia, I'm guessing?" He asks as Jack tucks his gun away and situates himself in front of her. The latter pulls the wires around her wrists softer than the former, more delicate. With wide, terrified, surprised eyes, she nods.

Then the stranger stalks over to me and Alycia. My heartbeat pounds in my chest, adrenaline pumping through my veins like it's the only bloody thing keeping me alive.

"And if you're Jack's princess," he points to Alycia with his gun, then points to me with a wide, ugly grin. "You must be Tina. Pleasure."

He brings a hand to my face, fingers going to brush away a few escaped blonde strands covering my cheek. "Don't touch me," I seethe, jerking away from him.

He pulls away, entertained. "Well, someone's gonna have to tie you up. Might as well get to know each other before then, don't you think? I'm Reed."

 _ **I'm**_ _gonna kick you in the nuts._

Jack moves onto Chris' hands in my peripheral, swinging the wire over the poor kid's wrists. My eyes burn as I look back to Reed's face. "I know enough. I'm not impressed." I bring my hand to his face, pressing down the button on the pepper spray as deeply as I can. Reed _screams_ at the intrusive chemicals, and inwardly I grin.

"Mother _FUCKER!_ " He howls, a single hand going to face and furiously rubbing at his newly blinded and teary eyes. The other still holds the gun, making my victory short lived.

Blindly he smacks at my face with the pistol, the metal connecting to my cheekbone with a heavy _THWACK!_ I groan in pain as I fall to the floor, the pepper spray flying from my hand and spinning on the floor away from me. _Fuck, that hurt._ The bruise left behind is going to be _huge._

"Don't!" Alycia cries out, ready to pounce at any second to help me. "Please!"

Reed rubs at his eyes, barely able to open one. Still, he sees the nerves run through her, her hands flying out as if to shield me from more inflicted pain. He points the gun at her harshly. "Don't. She did this to herself." And he turns back to me.

"You _stupid_ fucker!" Reed's leg connects with my stomach as he kicks harshly, the wind flying out of my lungs. " _What_ did you think that would do?!"

He kicks again, the pain coursing through my ribs as it's harder than the first. But still, I grin. With heavy breaths, I manage, "Threw you off your game."

He bends down, fisting the fabric of my shirt in one hand as he pulls my form up to look at him. His grin is malicious. "You haven't done _shit_ but put yourself through unnecessary pain."

The pistol connects with my cheek again, this time leaving a decently sized gash on the length of my cheekbone. The skin burns in protest. I can hear Alycia, Ophelia, and Travis call out to him, asking—no, _begging,_ him to stop, but Reed seems too engrossed with my pain. _Like I said, he enjoys his job far too much._

My head pounds with the echo of the gun connecting to my face. The ringing is dizzying. "That pretty face a yours isn't so pretty now."

"Please, leave her alone! She's just a kid." Travis calls out. "Please, please!"

Jack pipes up, tone even as he says, "We still have to find the others, Reed. I think she gets the idea. Let's just tie her up and leave her to deal."

Reed tosses the fabric bundled in his hands, pushing me back with the motion. He stands from his spot, staring at me. "Fine. You tie her up. Careful, she bites."

Jack does as he's told, walking to me with wires in hand. He pulls my arms behind my back and gently begins to set the wire, wrapping it around me with practiced ease. I don't want to think about how many times he's done this. We can't be the first group they've dealt with.

"Jack." Alycia pleads. "Jack, don't. Please."

"He's doing his job." Reed sounds bored as he picks up Daniel's shotgun, setting it in his hands comfortably. "Kip, keep tying her."

Jack nods and finishes off the ropes with a harsh knot. He tugs it to make sure it's completely secure. _Damn. He does a good job._ I can barely wiggle my fingers, nevertheless move my hands. He helps me up from the ground, my head still dizzy, and shows me to the couch beside Ophelia. It's almost kind.

"Why are you doing this?" Alycia asks.

"You can circumnavigate the world from this ship." Reed answers. "She's a _prize._ "

"You're making a mistake." Travis says.

"No, I think your son made the mistake." Reed jerks his neck to Chris, who stares up at the stranger with pure hatred. "'Should I shoot 'em?' Piece of advice, if you have to ask the question, somebody should already be dead." He juts the shotgun over to Daniel on the floor in front of Ophelia. "Daniel's next. Your girl can help you."

"I'm not doing shit." Alycia immediately responds.

Reed sets the barrel of the gun to point to Daniel with ease. "We can bind them; we can shoot them. No skin off my nose."

Alycia glares at him, but knows that she has no choice. With glassy eyes she stalks over to Daniel, bending on her knees so Jack can bind Daniel's wrists together behind his back.

As Jack begins to spin the wire on Daniel's wrists, Reed orders, "Kip, when you're done check the rest of the boat. Look for the captain and Nick."

I mentally sigh in relief. They haven't found Nick. They couldn't have hurt him. Yet. _But still, where the fuck did he go?_

"How do they know our names?" Daniel asks Alycia quietly as she tightens the binding.

"I don't know, Daniel." She responds softly. "I didn't tell them about that."

As Alycia and Jack pull away from Daniel, a soft splashing reaches my ears from outside. _Huh?_ Is it a raft? Maybe an emergency one? When I hear no engine purring I come to the conclusion it's an emergency blow-up raft, but then comes my next question. _Who's on it?_

Reed and Jack sprint out the door and onto the deck, Jack pulling Alycia with him. Fear sparks through my chest. _Who's on it?_ Our capturers are too far away for me to hear what they're saying, but the two gunshots clearly ring through the heavy air of my group. _Fuck, fuck._ Reed comes back happy, a stoic Jack and terrified Alycia in tow.

"Kip, go search for the other one." Reed orders. Jack nods, leaving us. "Hands out, princess."

Silently, as if in shock, she holds her hands out in front of her. He shakes his head, setting himself behind her, and pulls her wrists backwards. He's harsher in his ministrations as he tightens them, keeping the knot small and leaving hardly any wiggle room for her wrists.

"Who's on the raft?" I ask immediately as Reed's done with her, straightening up in my seat. I ignore the pounding in my head. Thankfully, it's lessened.

"Our captain." Alycia responds.

" _Just_ him?"

"Yes."

I relax in my spot, slouching my shoulders as I release a huff. _Thank god it's not Nick,_ I think, _but we still need Strand._ Our situation keeps getting worse as the sun lightly begins to shine through the glass walls. Madison's alone, Nick's MIA, and Strand's on a raft, possibly dying. And we're bound.

I guess my relief shows more than I think, seeing that Reed gives another malicious grin. He swings the strap of the shotgun over his shoulder, striding to me. "Looking for someone, sweetheart?"

He takes slow steps forward, taking his handgun out of his waistband. I keep my tone level and un-afflicted as I say, "I just want to know where my team is."

"More specifically your boy toy, right?" Reed corrects. I say nothing, glaring to him. "Oh yeah, he's _definitely_ your boy toy. I'm guessing you have other... Bruises, before this," he shakes his gun to me, "right?"

"Leave her alone." Alycia argues. "It's none of your business!"

"Hey, hey." Reed looks back to her, swinging his gun aimlessly. "I'm just makin' conversation 'till Kip comes back. So, am I right?"

He uses the barrel of the gun to push my hair away from my neck, revealing small, purple hickies peppered on my skin from my previous endeavors with Nick. I pull away from Reed, but the damage is already done. " _Oh_ , yeah, you do! No wonder you didn't want to be tied up. Is that somethin' the two of you do? Huh?" Satisfied, he puts the gun back into his waistband.

"Is this really necessary?" Travis interjects. "C'mon, just leave her alone."

"Don't be such prudes, guys! Love-making is a _wonderful_ thing. How do you think Vida is the way she is, huh? And it's not like any a you are trying to make conversation."

" _Piss. Off._ " I growl at him. "You sadistic, perverted _wanker_."

"Harsh words, miss Waters."

I'm overly thankful when Jack returns, pulling Reed's attention away from me. No Nick in tow, though. _What the hell, yank? Where are you?_

Reed looks over to Jack, confused. "No Nick?"

"No one else on the boat." Jack confirms.

Reed looks back down to me. "Sorry, sweetheart, looks like your loverboy musta jumped ship."

"He's bloody smart, that's for sure." I hiss. "Smarter than you, anyway."

 _He's safe, wherever he is. Safer than here, at least._

"Well, we don't need 'im. The less people, the better." Reed shrugs, sauntering past me to look to Ophelia. "That a gunshot wound?"

Ophelia let's out a pained moan as he digs his thumb onto the front of it, pushing harshly. Daniel straightens in his spot at the sight of his daughter in pain. Thankfully, he keeps silent. He knows how people like our capturer think. Jack winces at Ophelia's whine. _C'mon, you can take over a whole bloody ship but can't handle the violence of it?_

As Reed happily walks away, satisfied with Ophelia's pain, he snaps, "Who has the key to the boat?"

None of us answer. The one who has the bloody key is probably dead in the ocean. _You're fucked, bloke._

When he doesn't hear a response, Reed stares solely to Alycia. She answers, fibbing. "I don't know."

Unsatisfied, Reed sneers, "You're gonna start lying now?"

"You leave her _alone._ " Chris seethes, eyes burning with hatred. Reed stares at him with a smirk, entertained with the kid's anger.

"Hey," Ophelia pulls his gaze away from Chris. "That guy you shot, genius? We aren't lying. That's the captain; he has the key."

Reed looks back to Chris for confirmation. "That true?"

When Chris doesn't answer, Reed flings his hand out, his pistol connecting with Chris' face. Travis immediately straightens in his spot, all but seeing red. "Hey, keep your _GODDAMN_ HANDS OFF-"

Reed aims the pistol at Chris's forehead, immediately shutting Travis up. Both Manawas go wide-eyed, terrified at the gun pressed against Chris. Travis tries to plead with the attacker, all bite in his tone gone. "Don't—don't hurt him."

"I'm going to give you to the count of five to tell me where the key to the boat is." Reed responds simply. "One."

"He doesn't have it!" Travis gestures to Chris with his tied hands.

"Who does? Two."

"Please, just stop, okay? Come on, man."

Reed clicks the safety off the gun. " _Three._ "

Travis breathes heavily, looking at Chris. "Strand. Like she said, Strand, our captain, he has the keys."

Reed is obviously unsatisfied with the answer. I'm ready to scream when he pushes Chris down, his hand settling on Chris's chest with his gun's barrel squared between his victim's eyes. "Four!"

"Dad?! Dad!" Chris yells out to his father. He tries to wiggle underneath Reed, but there's nowhere to go. _Don't you dare. Don't you_ _ **dare**_ _hurt him!_

"You just—you don't need the keys, okay?" Travis huffs in fear. "I can—I can start the boat without the keys. I can wire the boat. Just let my son go."

Reed waits a beat before pulling the gun away from Chris, giving a hearty tap on the boy's cheek before pulling fully away from him. Chris lets out a shaky breath, yanking himself to a seating position. _Thank god._

Two more people enter my sight, pushing through the door that leads to the bedroom and washroom hallway. Madison, with her hands tied and blood in her hair from a blunt force wound. The pregnant lady—Vida, if I remember the name Reed said correctly—has cleaned up, obviously in control of the situation. The blood adorning her visible legs is completely gone. My eyes burn in anger; it was all a bloody ruse. A damn good one, at that. She pulls Madison harshly from her tied hands, a gun pointed at Madison's head.

"Everything under control?" Vida asks Reed through grinding teeth.

"Mom!" Alycia gasps. Madison does _not_ look good. Her eyes are glossed over, as if in a daze. She was probably unconscious.

"Maddy?!" Travis cries out as the pregnant lady throws Madison onto the couch beside me.

She groans in pain, but manages, "I'm okay, Travis." She looks over the group, counting the heads. "Where's Nick?"

"He wasn't in his room when we woke up." I quickly explain.

"I heard gunshots."

"Strand abandoned the ship." Daniel says. "They shot at him."

"Was he hit?"

"We don't know." I say. I hiss to her quietly. "We're in the dark. They aren't saying shit."

Jack pipes to his group, speaking for the first time in a while. "Strand yanked out the wheelhouse radio. We need the portable."

"And Travis here just bet his son's life he can start the boat without a key." Reed adds, grinning to his henchmen. He points to us, speaking directly to Vida. "So, watch them." Then he points to Jack. "Find the spare radio. Reach out to Connor. And take your princess with you."

"No! She stays!" I immediately disagree. _Don't take her._

"Damn right, she stays! She stays!" Madison pulls in front of Jack, blocking Alycia from his view.

"Mom, don't." Alycia stands from her spot, hurriedly walking over to Madison. "It's okay. It's okay."

"It's not okay! You stay with us." I argue. _I can't let you leave. I promised I'd keep you safe._

"No, Tina, I don't." She looks down to me, her soft hazel eyes gazing to my green softly. _Dammit,_ I think. _If she wants to go, I can't stop her. Never could._ I resign, unhappy but understanding, and lean back in my spot.

Alycia looks back to her angry mother, softly adding, "I'm okay. I brought this on us. I can make it better." When Madison's stance is unyielding, Alycia whispers, "I trust him."

 _You shouldn't. He baited you, lied to you, and now he's taken over your boat. I'd slice his throat if I could. I just might, if I get the chance._

"All right, c'mon. Let's go." Jack's hand pulls at Alycia's shoulder, taking her away from the rest of us, soft steps padding out of the room and onto the deck. My heart pounds in worry, stomach knotting uncomfortably. _And there's not a bloody thing I can do._

"C'mon, Trav, looks like you're gonna show me how to wire this pretty thing." Reed yanks Travis unceremoniously from his spot on the ground, like he's just a heavy object needed. With ease (and a gun pointed to Travis's head,) the pair head down to the engine room of the Abigail.

The feeling of hopelessness gurgles in my chest. I'm weaponless, without three people I greatly care about, under watch by a women who I'm certain wouldn't hesitate to kill me if she had the chance to. I slouch in my spot, my frown hardening. _We're fucked. We're absolutely, horribly fucked._

My eyes latch onto Madison's, praying the cogs in her head have formed a plan to get us out of this mess. If anyone can salvage this mess, it's her. But all she can do is stare back, as lost as me. _Dammit._

I shift on the couch, attempting to stretch my legs without moving too much, and feel something digging into my back. I frown. _Huh?_

 _Wait a minute…_

Curiously, I shift to my right, the object pointing into my flesh from my back pocket. And it clicks in my brain with a zing of energy.

 _My knife! These wankers never checked me for weapons after the pepper spray._ And suddenly, the pressure of the situation lessens. I'm not weaponless. I have more power than I thought.

I can get us out of this. I _will_ get us out of this.

 _You_ _ **will**_ _get off my bloody boat; whether you're dead or alive after doesn't matter to me. Time to take back the Abigail._

* * *

 _A/N: Woop woop! Little bit a smut, little bit a plot, and this is what you get. Fun stuff, huh? If you liked it, please feel free to leave a review or PM me about it! They really make my day!_


	16. Chapter 16: First Blood

_A/N: NEW CHAPTER YAY FINALLY!_

* * *

Vida doesn't care about keeping her eyes on us. Not really. Sure, she's watching, but her eyes are trained on the small glass of brandy she's poured herself from the Abigail's bar. The sight makes me internally frown. _You seem just about due, don't you want the baby to come out healthy?_ Maybe not. Maybe that's why she's having a glass.

As she rubs the drink between her hands, her gun a few inches away from her on the countertop, I casually lean to Madison and hiss out, "I have a knife. Back pocket."

Vida doesn't hear me. She's decently far, and the light splashing from the rocking boat provides some distraction for her. _Good_.

"Can you reach it?" Madison asks.

I shimmy in place and try to push the CRKT further up my pocket with little success. In desperation my fingers stretch out to the top part of the fabric, but can't go further. "No. Bollocks."

"Keep trying." I nod in agreement. I _will_ get the blade. It may take some time, but I _will_. No doubt. "You sure Nick wasn't in his room? Or yours?" She adds the last part after a beat.

"No, I was with Alycia. He wasn't there, and his bed was made."

She leans over to look at Chris on the other side. "Did you see him when you were on watch?"

Chris shakes his head, eyes glassy. "No."

Ophelia adds, "He might've come up when we were on the bow."

"And the only one who would know is in the sea." Daniel says. _Ah, fuck. Where'd you go, yank?_

Madison eyes Vida across the room as she brings the brandy to her face, eyes closing as she breathes in the scent. "There's only three of them." Madison's gaze flicks to Daniel on the floor. "Can you get loose?"

He smirks. "Keep her distracted."

 _In other words, yes. Yes he can_. Hopefully he can get out faster than I wiggle my knife out.

I shift all my weight to the left, leaning into the soft cushions as I inconspicuously stretch out my right leg. _**Please**_ _tell me that pushes my knife out a hair_. My fingers try to reach further in the pocket—which they do, if anyone wants to count the millimeter—but it's still not deep enough to reach the butt of the knife. My elbows burn from the awkward stretch, but I try to keep the thought out of mind. I can't focus on comfort; I need to get _out_ of these bloody restraints.

 _Shit_. This is harder than I thought.

I quickly readjust my position as I hear two pairs of footsteps descending from the spiral stairs that lead to the captain's quarters. Travis descends first, eyes harshly set and burning with anger. Reed's directly behind him with a hand set on Travis' shoulder and a gun pointed directly at his head. Chris tries to look anywhere else. _Understandable. It's hard to watch._

Reed decides to poke at Chris. "Lookin' for your girl?"

"Let's just fix the engine, huh?" Travis interjects. His voice is completely monotonous. _I hate him like this_.

"She's my SISTER." Chris corrects Reed.

Reed stares. "You're doing your SISTER?" A smirk breaks on his face as Chris struggles in his binds. "That's pretty twisted, man."

 _Fuck off, you unbel-_ _ **ievable**_ _twat._

"I should have the boat running in about an hour." Travis explains as he leans against the back of a couch, looking between Madison and Daniel.

Reed pulls him further away from us and shoves Travis toward the stars leading to our engine room. "You don't have an hour. 30 minutes, tops."

While Chris continuously glares at the door Reed and his dad went through, Ophelia leans forward in her seat. "Chris, ignore them."

Vida scoffs at the bar. "Good luck with that."

"Ignore her, too." I add kindly. "They're just trying to get a rise out of you."

Chris looks down to the floor, pointedly away from either of us. "No shit, sherlock."

I frown at him but add nothing else. If he's angry, let him either fizzle out or stew. _Who knows? That anger might help us later._

Focusing my energy back to my task, I gingerly twist my hands in the tight wire. Maybe if I can stretch it out a bit, I could move more. _Argh, so bloody tight._ The wire digs into my skin, leaving raw circlets with every move _._

"When are you due?" Madison asks our capturer. Her eyes gleam to the stranger, pausing once to look at Daniel's progress in getting loose. _He's doing better than me_ , I think. There's more space between his wrists and the restraints, though his skin underneath becomes red with wear. Then again, it's not his first time in a situation like this.

The thought makes my stomach churn. I never want to repeat this. I don't ever want to feel this weak, this _helpless_ in my life again. But for Daniel? History's just repeating itself.

I pray to any deity in the sky to never let this happen to my group _ever_ again.

Vida eyes her drink, as if bored by Madison's question. "Don't know. Lost track."

Madison smiles knowingly. "If you were counting before all this, you're still counting."

Vida looks away smoothly, this time answering with the truth. "Four weeks."

I straighten up, my back resting flush against the couch cushion. _Friction can help. Maybe it can push the knife up somehow_.

"Oh, any day now."

Vida raises an eyebrow at the statement. I _'m guessing she's never had hostages inclined to make conversation._ Warily, she takes the glass of brandy and leisurely strolls/waddles to the open glass door by us, leading out to the deck. "Doctor says first one always carries to term."

I shimmy slightly in my spot, trying to be inconspicuous as I slide my bottom half down the seat. The friction, in theory, should be able to push the knife up as I move. _Please, please work._

 _Success!_ It's not in my hands yet, but the knife _did_ move further up. Much further. My fingers can ghost the top of it now. Inwardly, I grin.

"True, that's true. Usually." Madison continues, staring out to the sea thoughtfully.

"And then some."

The tips of my fingers can fit into my pocket, finding the gentle delves of the knife's marbled design. My index pushes the CRKT up in place, and the tip of the knife is close to popping out the pocket's top.

"They say the first is the hardest. Second pregnancy's worse in ways."

"Yeah?"

"You know the pain at any moment is less than what's coming." Madison looks over to Vida. "You know any potential complications. Might've been through some. And you know the moment that tiny thing comes into this world, you're _weaker_ , because you would die for him."

Vida stares out to the sea, muttering, "Right now I just want her the hell out of me."

"Oh, it's a girl? Picked out any names?"

"What is this?" Vida seethes, stalking away from the door. "My shower?"

 _Why the hell not?_ I think with an inward chuckle. It'll be as close to one as you can get nowadays _. Sorry I didn't bring any cake_.

As Vida sits down at our dinner table, swirling the brandy in her glass, my fingers manage to grasp a third of the knife, and I jerk my hand up. With a soft _plop_ onto the couch, the CRKT knife lands on the cushion behind me.

"Yes!" I hiss with a grin. I lean to Madison and whisper, "It's out. I just need to cut the binds."

"Good." She replies, and looks to Daniel. "Are you close?"

"A little more time."

Reserved, Madison straightens her back and looks to our guard-dog. Vida's still at the table, swirling that glass of brandy with hardly any emotion. She grabs her pistol with a free hand, and carries it with her as she turns to rest her side against the bar. I shimmy into the back cushion, my hands fumbling to hold the knife properly.

"One drink won't hurt her, once in a while." Madison muses.

Vida stares at the glass, held right underneath her nose. "I just like the smell."

"Good for you." Madison chuckles. "Wish I could say the same. When's the last time you felt her move?"

Instead of trying to find the small delve on the side that makes the blade pop out, I hold the knife between my hands and grasp both sides—the back of the blade and the hilt it's shut into—and try to swing the pieces apart. My hands can only go so far, but I manage to pull it to a 45-degree angle. With a few more twists, it's out fully and in my right hand, pointed up at the wires on my wrist.

Vida pauses, holding her drink tightly. "I'm on the go a lot. Barely notice." She rounds the corner into our room, staring at Madison curiously. My ministrations slow as I push my back flush against the cushions, hiding my handiwork.

"I lost one," Madison continues. "Between Nick and Alycia. One week her heart was beating; pat, pat, pat pat, too fast to count. Next checkup… it just stopped."

" _I'm_ healthy. My _kid's_ healthy."

"You taking prenatal vitamins?"

"As if I'm gonna find any—"

Madison interrupts, "When _exactly_ was the last time you felt her move?"

Vida stares at Madison, her brown eyes hardening. The bottom of the glass beats the wood of the dinner table harshly. " _Shut up_."

"If she died…" Madison thinks aloud, staring straight back with a glint in her eye. "She may have turned."

The theory makes me wonder. My brows furrow; _is that even possible?_ _ **Could**_ _that happen?_ Vida scrunches her nose, jaw clenching at the idea.

Ophelia frowns. "She'd feel that though, wouldn't she? I mean, if that _thing_ was moving inside of her, she would've probably felt that…?"

Vida flicks the safety off her pistol and stomps to Ophelia, pointing the gun in the middle of her forehead.

" _I said SHUT UP_!"

I jump back into the cushions, breath coming in heavy pants as I watch Ophelia. She holds herself in place, eyes staring at the barrel of the gun, unmoving.

Daniel immediately protests. "Hey, hey, hey, hey!"

Vida steps back from Ophelia and turns to Madison menacingly. She sets the barrel of the gun underneath Madison's chin, her teeth grinding as she growls, "I'll shoot you and I'll toss you overboard. Don't tempt me."

The sound of a door opening behind Vida catches my attention, and I look as Travis and Reed step out of the stairwell that leads to the engine room.

"Got a problem?" Reed pointedly asks.

Eyes still trained on Madison, she pulls back a step but keeps the gun trained at Madison's head. "She's just trying to get a rise out of me."

" _Trying_ to? Sit down."

Madison, like Ophelia, doesn't shrink from the gun on her face. She quietly asks, "What will you do if she's stillborn, Vida?"

" _Bitch_."

"What if she's born dead?"

Vida's response is to slam the pistol hard against Madison's cheek, not enough to break the skin but certainly enough to bruise a huge section.

"Hey!" Reed grabs at Vida's arm before she can do any more damage. "Connor might need her."

Vida keeps her mouth shut as she stalks off to the table, setting the gun back down and switching back to the glass.

"They still gone?" Reed asks Chris. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. _Quit poking the bear_. "Damn! My man's got some stamina!"

"Enough with the boy." Daniel interrupts. Travis, quietly, holds a hand above the couch cushion where Ophelia rests, and I catch the two seconds of something slipping down his arm and in between the cushion and wood back. He stares at Madison pointedly, catching her eye. She gives the tiniest of nods in understanding.

Travis calls to Reed. "You want me to start this engine or what?"

Reed walks back to Travis, shoving his pistol into Travis' back. The pair continue to the captain's quarters, leaving us alone with Vida yet again. I take the time to set the tip of my blade in the loop of my binds, keeping my grip tight as I saw at the material.

 _Back and forth, back and forth. Slowly, but surely, I_ _ **will**_ _get loose_. My mind focuses on the motion, quiet as the binds weaken. Then I think. What will I do once I get loose? Attack a pregnant lady with my knife? Kill her? She has a gun; she'd shoot me easily before I could get close.

No, that's a stupid idea. Get loose, give the knife to Madison. If she was freed, she could grab whatever Travis stuffed into the cushion near Daniel. It'd be two against one. _Better chance of survival, at least._

The door that leads to the hallway with our bedrooms opens, revealing Jack and Alycia. She stares to us, eyes wide, but silent as she walks to the empty couch cushion beside me and sits down. Jack follows suit behind her, standing a couple feet away, but directly behind her. I slow my hands; god forbid he sees me moving. _Don't notice, don't notice_.

"Look at that," Vida eyes the ocean with a smirk. "You have company."

The gentle hum of a raft fills the silence, and mentally I curse. _Their leader. Bollocks._ I still keep whittling away at the wires, movements becoming jerky and rushed; _get ready to protect yourself. If you have to fight, so be it. I'm not letting anyone get hurt._ As I imagine the raft pulling up to the floating piece of the Abigail, the engine of our yacht hums to life. I don't know whether to be amazed at Travis or to curse him. _Depends on what good ole' Connor thinks._

Footsteps replace the engine's purrs as four people tread up the deck of the Abigail and through the glass doors of our dining room, coming into our sight.

The first man—I assume—is Connor. Tall, a healthy dark beard covering his face, and wavy hair swooping to his left. His clothes are pressed and neat, though his shirt is a size too big so it weighs low on his form. He carries himself highly; with a politician-like entrance and a wide smile.

The man on his left is much older, with a bald spot atop his head and thinning gray hair on the sides. His moustache is unkempt and, quite frankly, looks like a caterpillar that was glued on. In his hands rests a huge, military-grade rifle. The woman on Connor's left has long red hair that reaches mid-back, completely straight and as rigid as she is. Again, she carries a rifle, though she has a satchel swung over her shoulder. The last henchmen walks behind Connor; younger than all three. Not my age—maybe late twenties, early thirties. It looks like this might be his first mission, considering his eyes are wide and his hands shake as they carry a small pistol.

"This is a _gorgeous_ vessel." Connor compliments, looking to all of us.

"Finally," Vida hums.

Connor eases himself in front of us, inspecting our group quickly, judging silently. He makes a circle and ends at me and Madison, staring to our faces.

"What happened?" He asks. I raise an eyebrow. _Like you care_.

Vida presses her lips in a thin line. "Reed hit the British one; she put up a fight. Blonde hit her head."

"You couldn't clean them up? Jesus, guys, come on."

Two more footsteps fill the air as Reed and Travis trail down the captain's stairs. Reed tightly grips Travis' jacket, shoving him forward to Connor with a grin. "This is the one who started the boat!"

"Travis." Connor nods. "You and Alycia come with us."

I jerk my head to look at Alycia beside me, ready to openly protest. She shakes her head silently, hazel eyes staring into mine as she desperately tries to silently communicate.

"And my family?" Travis asks, bewildered.

"We only need the two of you."

Reed pushes Travis to the ground, the ginger-haired woman helping to hold him down as she pulls a black beanie from her satchel. "Woah, woah, wait! Hey!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Madison jumps to her feet at Connor, but he shoves her shoulder harshly so she falls to the couch. The young man steps forward, pointing his gun at Madison in warning as Travis is completely blinded by the fabric. My hands jerk the knife quickly; the binds are almost broken. _Break, break, break! C'mon, don't let them take Alycia and Travis_.

"You'll get them a boat, right?" Alycia asks Jack.

Jack eyes Connor, and nods. "Yeah, they'll get them to shore."

Connor shrugs, satisfied. "Fair enough."

"Travis—!" Madison cries as Reed and the ginger-haired woman roughly pull him to his feet.

"It's okay, Maddy. I'll bring her back." He says from underneath the beanie. As Chris begins to openly protest, Travis adds, "Chris, stay with Maddy!"

Jack sets a black beanie on Alycia's face silently, and with one hand on her elbow he leads her out the door behind Reed and Travis. Vida sets her glass on the table and trails behind the group, Connor following as well.

 _Keep going… Almost there… So loose…_

Reed and the three henchmen stay behind as the raft revs to life and pulls away from the Abigail. A weight, like a heavy rock, soars to my throat, making its home as I resist the urge to scream. _Don't take them, don't take them_! Madison stands, watching the raft break through the water. The young man walks directly in front of Madison and shoves his pistol at her, urging her to sit back down. She does, dejectedly plopping onto the couch. Her head hangs forward, like a weight on her shoulders.

As Reed downs the glass of brandy, he sits down heavily on one of the chairs. "Connor hasn't _quite_ adapted to this world. He's got leadership skill, holds us all together." He pours himself another glass, quickly throwing it back. "Big heart, strong mind. _Weak_ stomach."

Once the raft is out of earshot, Madison demands, "Put us on the launch. We'll go to shore. You can take the Abigail."

The ginger-haired woman scoffs and treks out the open door, the older gentlemen following suit as they take watch on the outer deck.

"The thing is," Reed stands and stalks over to us, cocky. "The launch goes with this yacht, doesn't it?"

"We'll swim to shore!" She snaps. "Just let us go."

"What if you want your boat back? I don't like that ending."

"Shh!" The older man on the deck demands. His eyes stare out to the sea, and he raises his rifle to the air. His eyes search through the scope, and his brow furrows.

Reed snarls, " _Excuse_ me?"

"Incoming!"

My fingers slow as Madison and I share a look. _What the hell? Why would Connor come back_? I keep my ears focused on the sound of an engine.

Then I realize: it's not the same. It's a different raft. _Who_? _Who the hell is that_?

"Did Connor come back?" Reed demands. The redhead and the older man raise their rifles out to the ocean, ready to strike.

The ginger looks through the scope of her gun. "Zodiac," she informs. "Looks like two—"

 _BANG_!

She crumples to the floor in a heap, a single bullet hole between her eyes. _Shit, we're under attack_? _Get loose, get loose_ _ **now**_!

In another three seconds the older man goes down like a rock, paralleling the ginger's death. Single gunshot to the forehead. Madison's legs twitch, as if ready to pounce our attackers. Her hands writhe in the binds, desperate for freedom.

The young capturer in front of me and Madison flicks the safety off his pistol, hands shaking as the barrel aligns itself to Madison. He cocks the gun, staring at her. "I'll do it. I swear to god."

 _Snap_!

My binds break with a _flick!_ onto the cushion, and in three seconds I stand, grab the hilt of my blade firmly with both hands, and without conscious thought plunge my blade into his jaw.

More fighting happens. Daniel gets loose; Madison grabs the crowbar hidden in the couch by Travis and stabs Reed in the side. Daniel frees Ophelia of her binds, Chris grabs onto Reed and holds him in place. There's screaming, and chaos, and footsteps pounding up the stairs of the Abigail outside. From the corner of my eye I see Daniel grab one of the discarded rifles on the ground, holding it up protectively. Madison does the same, grabbing the pistol from the young one.

But that's not what I focus on. My eyes stare at the stranger—the man who threatened Madison, the _child_ —as he gurgles on his own blood. It seeps onto my fingers, trickling down my forearms, covering me in small trails of red. Dark, _oozing_ red. He drops to his knees, sputtering in pain as he stares back to me in fear and surprise.

What am I feeling, as I watch the light of life leave his eyes? Anger? Upset? Vengeance?

Nothing. I feel _nothing_.

"Mom," a familiar voice trails into my conscience.

"Nick, where were you?"

 _Nick?_

My eyes pull away from my victim, twisting to the left so I see Nick, clad in all black, embracing Madison tightly. A stranger trails behind him, rifle in hand and backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, drop it!" Daniel commands, pointing his gun at the stranger's chest.

"Where's Victor?!" The stranger screams, holding his own at Daniel.

I pull my knife from the dead man's jaw, the squelch barely registering in mind, and stare between the two as they bicker. He falls into a heap on the ground, heavy and unmoving and _dead_.

"WOAH, HEY!" Nick screams, a hand up as if in surrender. "He's okay. _He's okay_! He's a friend, he helped. _Strand_ sent me to get Luis, okay? He's gonna help us get into Mexico."

Daniel begins to lower his gun, though still eyeing the newcomer warily. Madison tightens her grip around Nick, and he sets his arms around her just as tight.

"I was getting Strand into Mexico." Luis corrects.

I can hear the conversation, but it's like my head is underwater. The words are hazy, registering one at a time in a thoughtless fog. My eyes stare to an empty patch of the hard-word floor, the sun shining brightly against its natural pattern. I set the blade in my right hand, gripping it so tight. My tether to reality.

 _I just killed someone._

Madison explains quick. "He left when they boarded. When they tried to take the Abigail."

"Victor escaped?" Luis asks.

"They shot at his raft. He went down." She pulls away from Nick, worry spiking. "I have to go after Travis! I have to find Alycia."

"We do not go to the border without Strand!"

Daniel scoffs. "We don't need Strand."

"Well, he didn't need you either, yet here you are. Without Strand, we don't get into Mexico."

Daniel pulls away from the group, flinging the rifle onto his back and grabbing Reed off the floor. He stalks off with the asshole to who knows where and Ophelia and Chris silently follow.

Madison stares out to the ocean, quiet. "Fine. I'll grab the raft. I'll get Strand."

"Mom, I'll do it—" Nick starts.

"No, I'm fine. I'm fine. I'll get him." She repeats herself. "I'm fine."

Madison pulls away from the group, heading down the stairs and silently hopping on the raft alone. The sound of the engine whirring fills the fog of my mind easily.

"Tina? T?"

Quietly, I look up to Nick, staring as he takes slow, deliberate steps to me. Like I'm a scared animal that needed coaxing. _Well, can't blame him_ , the rational part of me thinks. _He comes back to me covered in blood and a busted-up face._

"Are you okay?" He tentatively asks. I notice my hand holding the knife shaking. Like I was burned, I drop it to the ground.

 _Holy shit. I killed a man_.

"I…" I manage, gesturing to the body on the floor. "I had to—I _had_ to—"

Nick wraps his arms around me tightly, soothing me. "I know, I know." He squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe, and my arms go around his form mechanically. The gash on my cheek burns when it makes contact with Nick's shoulder, but I can't be bothered to pull away, or hiss, or even _wince_ at the pain.

He didn't even know we were attacked until he came back to see strangers on the deck. For all he knew, I could've been killed in the time he was gone. _He's alive; I'm alive. We're okay._

 _But that kid isn't. I killed him. I'm a killer._

"He," I choke out. "He was going to kill Madison, I _had_ to—"

"I know, T." He presses a tender kiss to my forehead, one of his hands gently pushing my hair back so he can see my full face. Then he presses another kiss between my eyes, sighing heavily in relief as he envelops me again.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, okay?" His hand finds mine, gently pulling me behind him, and I follow quietly. He takes me down the hallway that leads to the washroom, and I'm thankful for his gentle affection, but it's not what I focus on. There's only one thought on repeat:

 _I killed someone._

 _I'm a killer._


End file.
